The Odd Quad
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: A string of events affects islanders and guests alike.  Follows 'Viking Mystery'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _This one took a while to write because I was juggling so many plot threads, but I finally managed to get control of them all. Enjoy, and thanks to "the usual suspects", as always!_

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§ § § -- February 11, 2004

Christian brought the car to a stop in front of the main house and gave Leslie a stern look. "Now if you have any more trouble with those ankles, call me," he said firmly. "I'll come and take you over to Dr. Hannaford's office myself. Did you call her as I told you to do?"

"Yes, and she said it's normal for a pregnant woman to have swollen ankles," Leslie told him. She shook her head in amusement. "Christian, my love, you said you've been through all this before with your sister and sisters-in-law. Why are you such a bag of nerves now? They don't hurt, at least as long as I don't try to stand up all day. And before you ask, my next appointment with her is the nineteenth, so please just calm down."

"I'm a bag of nerves," Christian informed her, "because it's you, not Anna-Laura or Amalia or Kristina. I don't want anything happening to those babies—and I especially don't want anything to happen to you. Even with the children, I could never get along without you. It took me so long to find you…"

She smiled and tipped to one side to kiss him. "I know, my darling," she said. "But us preggos are tougher than you think. Just ask your sister."

Christian chuckled, sounding a little reluctant. "All right, I'll stop," he said. "I'm going to be late for work anyway. Just keep me informed of anything unusual. I love you, my Rose. Have a good day."

"I love you too," she assured him, and they kissed again. "Enjoy your day and we'll see you at lunch." He nodded, and she slipped out of the car, heading for the house with slightly more gingerly steps. Just a few days before, she'd begun sprouting all sorts of pesky pregnancy symptoms: swollen ankles, a slightly achy abdomen, dizziness, an increased heart rate, an even more increased appetite (which had delighted Mariki no end), and even a nosebleed, which had terrified Christian. Leslie was getting tired of his urgings to call the doctor every time something new came up, and she wished there were some way to settle him down without bothering Dr. Hannaford.

She waved at Christian from the porch, and he waved back and finally drove away up the lane. She watched him go before heading into the house, where Roarke was at the desk dealing with a stack of mail. "Good morning, Leslie," he said and smiled. "How are you feeling? Is there anything new to report?"

"Mostly new nuisances," Leslie admitted, closing her purse away in the back of the drawer and gathering up a little more than half the remaining envelopes. "Aches and pains, swollen ankles, and a nosebleed yesterday that practically gave poor Christian a heart attack when he saw it. Every little thing that goes wrong, he wants to panic at Dr. Hannaford. I don't have a clue how to calm him down."

"Will he be with you at your appointment next week?" Roarke queried.

"If he has anything to say about it, he will be," said Leslie, and he chuckled. "I intend to take advantage of that and ask Dr. Hannaford to tell him to quit going nuts every time I hiccup. I wouldn't call her when my nose started bleeding, so he did…and she told him it's not an unusual symptom of being pregnant. Even then he still wasn't very sure. If he's this bad now, wait till after the babies get here. He'll be impossible."

Roarke was laughing by now. "Try to take it with a few grains of salt, Leslie," he said. "As well, you might look at it as a sign of his concern for you, that he loves you and the babies very much. It's the same motivation that prompted him to ask me to cancel your participation in time-travel fantasies until after you've given birth. At this point I believe that's wise. Before you object, you should remember what I've told so many guests over the years: I cannot cancel a fantasy once it's under way, and what happens in the course of any fantasy is not under my control. Like Christian, I prefer not to take unnecessary chances, so you will remain in the present day until the twins have arrived."

Leslie considered that, settling in one of the chairs in front of the desk with the mail she had picked up. "Well," she said with a sigh, "I guess you're right, Father. I just hope we don't get any really interesting ones till after the ban's lifted."

Roarke laughed again, and at that moment there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he called, and a young Asian man stepped into the foyer and paused at the top of the steps. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a T-shirt bearing the logo of a heavy-metal band, and had a disgruntled look about him.

"Hi, Jeremy," Leslie said. "What's up?"

Jeremy Ichino came into the room and settled in the other chair. "I wanted to ask if you might have some job openings," he said, sounding grudging.

"At the moment, I don't," Roarke replied, pausing to give him a quizzical look. "However, you seem, shall we say, less than enthusiastic."

Jeremy sighed and slumped in his seat, rolling his eyes theatrically. "It's my mom and dad, Mr. Roarke," he said with a put-upon sigh. "They're on my case about getting a job, and to them, that means working in some stuffy building, nine to five, Monday through Friday. I can't hack that kind of thing. I'd suffocate in a place like that."

Roarke and Leslie looked at each other. "Well," Leslie said, "what do you enjoy most?"

"Being a roadie," Jeremy replied immediately.

Leslie grinned, and Roarke said with amused sympathy, "Unfortunately, Jeremy, we have nothing in that department anywhere on the island." Jeremy's features collapsed into a disgusted scowl, and he added, "But before you grow completely disenchanted, I know of a vacancy that might interest you. Since you seem to have the desire to work in a field related in some way to show business, you might try applying for a disk-jockey position at the radio station in town. The afternoon jockey has accepted an offer from a station in Hawaii and will be leaving this weekend. Would that appeal to you?"

Jeremy stared at him. "A DJ?" he mumbled. It was clear from his expression that the idea had never entered his mind. "Don't you have to go to school for that, though?"

Leslie grinned again. "I'm sure that doesn't hurt," she said, "but this is a local station, with a small broadcast range, so I imagine your chances are as good as anyone else's. I know you can talk, because I remember three summers ago when you talked your way into being a roadie for a band that was performing at the amusement park. I didn't think it was possible for anyone's mouth to move that fast." Jeremy grinned sheepishly back, and Roarke and Leslie laughed. She continued, "I figure you might have to audition, but if you can talk like you did that time at the park, then you should have a good shot at it."

Jeremy snickered. "Yeah, maybe I do. Okay, I'll go over right now. Thanks for your help, Mr. Roarke and Miss Leslie." He arose, then noticed Leslie unconsciously smoothing her hand over her swollen abdomen. "Wow, Miss Leslie, you can really see the baby now!"

"Twins," Leslie said, grinning up at him. "What rock were you under that you didn't know that?"

Jeremy's eyes popped. "No kidding, twins? Well, I've been working at Disneyland, on the stage crew for their musical shows. Jonathan said you're expecting and Prince Christian's bustin' at the seams, but he forgot to mention you're having twins. That's really cool. Anyway, thanks again." He trotted out of the house, and Roarke and Leslie looked at each other again.

"Do you think he has any chance of getting the job?" Leslie asked. "I mean, seriously. I remember someone I went to high school with announcing he was going to broadcasting school so he could be Casey Kasem's successor. I know it's a small station, but what do you really think Jeremy's chances are?"

"If he's as glib as you implied he is," Roarke said with a chuckle, "I should think his chances would be just fine." She giggled, shook her head and slit open another envelope.

‡ ‡ ‡

When the knock came, thirteen-year-old Denise Polidari sat up in amazement and shot her older sister an excited look. "Hey, someone's visiting! Be right back!"

Sixteen-year-old Janine Polidari scowled. "You better look through the peephole first, you dork. We don't know anybody on this freaking island."

"Well, maybe we should start getting to know people," Denise suggested. Ignoring her sister's rude snort of response, she went to the door, squinted through the peephole and sighed, opening the door and simultaneously calling back to Janine, "Aw, man, it's only Uncle Jeremy."

Jeremy, toting a suitcase, stared at her in mock affrontery as he came in. "Geez, what a heartfelt welcome that was. 'Only Uncle Jeremy'? Thanks a lot, kid."

Denise grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Uncle Jeremy. Hey, what're you doing with that? Staying over?"

"Hopefully. Where's your mom?" Jeremy asked.

"Who the hell cares?" Janine grunted, her nose buried in a book.

Denise rolled her eyes. "Mom's at work, of course. Where else would she be? She oughta be home around five-fifteen or so, I guess. How come?"

"I've gotta talk to her about something," Jeremy said. "How about you guys doing me a favor and helping me get those boxes in here? It looks like it might rain."

"Omigod, rain? Here, on the most stunning piece of paradise on the entire planet?" drawled Janine, voice dripping sarcasm. "I'm sure Mr. Roarke'd never let _that_ happen."

Jeremy eyed her. "If you're gonna be like that, go back to your book and good riddance to you, brat. Come on, Denise, let's get to it."

Janine threw the book aside and got to her feet with a show of reluctance. "Oh, all right." She came into the hallway and stared at the three stacks of boxes sitting in the front yard. "Are you moving in?"

"Well, that depends on what your mom says," Jeremy told her, blowing out his breath and glancing into the cloudy sky. "My parents pretty much threw me out." Janine and Denise both stared at him while he stepped outside and went to lift a box off a stack. "I looked around here, but there aren't any vacant apartments right now, and I can't move into the ones at the pineapple plantation, because you have to be an employee to get a place there and I wouldn't work down there if Mom and Dad held a shotgun to my butt." He paused on the front walk. "Are you gonna help, or just stare at me all afternoon?"

Denise and Janine came out then, still looking puzzled. "That's wicked mean," Janine commented, scowling. "Why'd they throw you out?"

"Because they don't like the job I just got," Jeremy said shortly. "Look, can we wait till your mom gets home before I talk about this? I'm in a crappy mood right now."

The girls helped him get his things into the house, then flopped into chairs in the living room while Jeremy perched on the edge of the sofa and studied his hands. "So how's school going?" he asked his nieces idly.

Janine grunted, "Same old, same old."

"I kinda like it," Denise said a little tentatively, casting her sister a hesitant glance. "I mean, I joined two clubs, and everybody seems nice…it's just hard to make friends."

Jeremy raised his eyebrows at her. "You've been here since October. Is it that bad?"

"It's easier for her than me," Janine said sourly. "I keep bugging Mom to let me go back and live with Dad so I can finish school with my old friends in Brookline, but she keeps saying no. She claims Dad doesn't want us anyway."

"Well, he doesn't," Denise sneered. "It'd ruin his image." The last word came out with a twisted lip and a _la-de-da_ singsong that made Jeremy look at her oddly.

"What image?" he asked.

Janine and Denise looked at each other; Janine's face turned deep crimson, and Denise made a disgusted face. "Ask Mom," was all she would say.

Jeremy shrugged and changed the subject; Denise was more animated than Janine, but neither girl wanted to say much at all. When the door opened and admitted the girls' mother, Jeremy was relieved. "Hi, sis," he said, standing up.

Andrea Ichino Polidari stopped short in the hallway and stared at him in amazement. "Jeremy? What're you doing here? How long have you been here?"

"Hour or so," he said. "Uh…sorry about all this stuff…" Andrea was eyeing the boxes in the hallway. "I have this gigantic favor to ask you."

Andrea assessed the boxes, the suitcase that sat nearby, and gave him a wry smile. "Don't tell me, let me guess. You want to move in."

Jeremy shrugged self-consciously. "Yeah, well…I just got a decent new job, but it's not good enough for Mom and Dad, and they told me it's time I started supporting myself, so I'm out. Trouble is, there aren't any vacant apartments right now, and I know there's no room in Jimmy and Camille's place, and Jonathan and Julianne are already sharing an apartment. You've got a basement, don't you? Finished, right? Could I use it?"

"You wanna live down cellar?" Janine asked, amazed. "It's not _totally_ finished. There's a carpet on the floor, but the walls are cement, and it smells moldy."

"Musty, actually," Andrea said, "but she's right. Are you serious, Jeremy?"

"As a funeral," he assured her. "I'll pay you rent, Andrea, but I really need someplace to live while I get on my feet and wait for an apartment to open up. I don't care what it smells like, I just need somewhere to sleep at night so I don't have to camp on the beach or something like that."

Andrea considered it, yawning and rubbing her forehead, wandering into the kitchen with Jeremy and the girls behind her. Finally she sighed. "Okay, Jeremy, I guess you can live here awhile. Uh…what's this job you just got? What kind of hours do you work, and what does it pay?"

"I'm the new afternoon DJ at the island radio station," Jeremy told her. "I do a four-hour shift five days a week, and mornings on Saturdays. I know it's only part-time, but they'll be paying me twelve bucks an hour. Not bad, huh?"

Andrea looked dubiously at him and said slowly, "Doesn't sound as if you could afford an apartment on that kind of money." She saw Jeremy's expression fill with frustration and rolled her eyes. "Jeremy, for crying out loud, I'm not trying to be like Mom and Dad and tell you you have to get a nine-to-five job if you really don't want it, but how do you expect to make a living like that?" She drew in a breath. "I tell you what. I'll let you live in the basement for a hundred dollars a month, as long as you mow the lawn for me and take on your share of the household chores. That okay by you?"

"I'll take it," Jeremy said immediately, relief and gratitude filling his face. "Thanks, sis, I really appreciate this. Just let me know whenever you want me to mow."

"I will," Andrea said and looked at her daughters. "Whose turn is it to cook tonight?"

"Janine's," Denise said.

Janine scowled. "Can't we just order pizza?"

"No," Andrea said. "We've had so much pizza since we moved here, I'm pizza'd out. Besides, we just did major food shopping…and on top of that, my damned laptop went on the fritz today. Jeremy, does that computer shop that Jonathan and Julianne work for do repair work?" At Jeremy's nod, she asked, "What do they charge?"

"Probably depends on what's wrong with it," Jeremy said. "They're open till six, so you still have time to take it over there."

Andrea nodded. "I'd better go now, then. I depend on this thing too heavily to let it sit around for long. Janine, there's plenty of food in the kitchen." She picked up her laptop and started for the door.

"I don't feel like cooking," Janine snapped.

"Too bad," Andrea snapped back. "It's your turn, Janine, and you don't get to welch out on the agreement we all made when we first got here. I'll be back in a while." She left, and Janine glared after her.

Jeremy studied her. "Got a problem with cooking?"

"I'd have paid for the pizza," Janine protested.

Denise hooted, "With what? You just went into the village the other day and bought six fashion magazines! I remember, because you said you were totally broke after you got them!" She added for Jeremy's benefit, "She just hates cooking."

"Well, it's not my favorite thing to do either," Jeremy admitted with a grin, "but when you're hungry and you don't have money to order out, you do it. Come on, Janine, I'll help you out this time. Your mother doesn't have to know."


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- February 11, 2004

Andrea got aboard her bike, which was outfitted with a double basket mounted over the rear tire guard, and set the laptop inside one of the baskets before securing the lid on the basket and pushing off. Sometimes she really missed driving, but riding her bike reminded her of happier days, growing up here on the island before she'd been accepted at Harvard. It seemed like centuries ago now, after her four hectic years at the prestigious school, her job with the _Boston Globe_, her meeting of and marriage to handsome Troy Polidari, and the births of Janine and Denise. She and Troy had settled in Brookline, Massachusetts, and their lives had seemed idyllic, between Troy's career as a chiropractor and her own in journalism.

But when the girls were in elementary school, Troy had suddenly begun distancing himself from her and them, and he'd even stopped sharing a bed with her. About eighteen months ago, on a Saturday when Janine and Denise had been out with friends, Troy had given her the shock of her life by announcing that he was gay, and he wanted a divorce. It had been such a bomb for Andrea that she hadn't been able to speak for some ten minutes after he'd said this; Troy had taken her silence for disbelief, and had tried to explain himself to her. Most of what he had said had gone right over Andrea's head, but the part in which he had told her he had a partner he felt very deeply for had definitely stuck with her. She had insisted he tell their daughters himself and not leave it up to her, and to his credit, he'd done so. Janine had accepted it; Denise hadn't.

Troy and Andrea's divorce had awarded her full custody. At first Janine and Denise had been resigned to it; then, in the middle of the court proceedings, Andrea had made the decision to move back to Fantasy Island. Troy had approved fully, but both girls had protested. After their father had told them it would be a good experience for them, Denise had accused him of not wanting all his "gay buddies" to know he'd been married and had children. Janine, on the other hand, had begged Troy ceaselessly to be allowed to live with him so she could complete high school in Brookline. Troy's adamant refusals had made her very bitter, but she took it out on Andrea because Troy somehow managed to elude every attempt his daughters made to contact him. He sent Andrea alimony checks, but that was all any of them ever heard from him.

Andrea no longer loved Troy, but she harbored a wellspring of anger at him for the way he was treating Janine and Denise. She was also upset with the girls because of their anger over her decision to move. Denise had adjusted better than Janine, and Andrea could actually see Janine's side of it; but she hadn't wanted to be anywhere near Troy in the wake of what he'd done. She wished Troy had come to realize his homosexuality before they had been married and she had borne Janine and Denise, and she sometimes wondered how many other men had done something similar. In any case, she had had enough of men and the way they seemed to take advantage of her. She had never told either Troy or the girls that she had been raped during her freshman year at Harvard; Andrea had thrown herself into schoolwork and resolutely pushed herself past the trauma the event had brought on. In fact, she remembered that her sister Camille had been more heavily affected by it than she herself was. But, between the rapist and Troy, she was more than happy to be single, and truly didn't care if she never fell in love again for the rest of her life.

She locked her bike to a bike rack in the town square and got out her laptop, glancing at the gray sky overhead. _Wouldn't it be just my luck to get caught in the rain going home,_ she thought morosely, crossing the square toward the storefront that housed Enstad Computer Services. It was a relief, at least, to see that they were still open, and she entered a little hesitantly, glancing around. There were five people in the office; she instantly recognized her brother Jonathan and sister Julianne, but she didn't know who the other three men were.

The startlingly good-looking dark-haired man at the desk to her left looked up from a tower inside which he had both hands. "Hello," he said in a pleasant voice with a slight accent that Andrea couldn't place. "What can we do for you?"

"My laptop's on the fritz," Andrea told him, wondering why he looked familiar. "I don't expect you to be able to fix it this instant, but I'm kind of in a hurry for it, so I'm hoping it's not too far gone."

The dark-haired man laughed. "I can look into it for you," he offered, extracting his hands from the tower and offering her one. "I'm Christian Enstad."

Andrea shook it. "Andrea Polidari." Suddenly she remembered. "Oh, wait a minute, you're the one Julianne and Jonathan are always calling 'Boss Prince'! Miss Leslie's husband, right? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Julianne and Jonathan's oldest sister."

"Ah, yes, of course," Christian said with recognition. "Julianne mentioned you had come back to the island. Well, let's see your laptop, and maybe I can at least let you know what's wrong with it."

"Geez, sis, about time you came to see where we work," Jonathan called out from his desk as Christian sat down and opened Andrea's laptop to examine it.

"Yeah," Julianne put in, "where've you been all this time?"

"Working, you two brats," Andrea said affectionately. "It goes both ways, you know. You've never yet shown up at my place, and heck knows it would've been nice to see you over there. And you have even less excuse since Jeremy's just moved in with me."

Julianne and Jonathan looked at each other in disbelief. "How come?" Jonathan asked.

"He says Mom and Dad kicked him out because they didn't like the new job he got today," Andrea said, shrugging. "You know, you two could come over tonight for supper and get caught up on things. Janine and Denise would enjoy the company, too."

"Who's cooking?" Jonathan asked.

"It's Janine's turn," said Andrea.

Jonathan gave an exaggerated wince. "Yikes." Andrea and Julianne both punched him in the arm, and he threw his hands in the air. "All right, all right, I surrender already! Man! Did you guys see what these sisters of mine just did?" he yelled at the other men.

"Well-deserved, I daresay," remarked Christian from his desk, grinning.

"I have to agree with that," said a blond, slightly stocky man from a desk against the wall behind Julianne's and Jonathan's. Andrea found herself watching him; he somehow struck her as a capable sort, and he too had an accent she couldn't place, though his was stronger than Christian's. He noticed her scrutiny and arose from his desk. "My name is Anton Lauterhoff."

"Andrea Polidari," she replied, smiling tentatively.

"Well, you've met Anton," said Julianne. "The quiet one over there is Mateo Apana—he's married to Boss Prince's niece."

Andrea and Mateo nodded at each other; then Andrea turned curiously to Christian. "How do you manage, putting up with these brats every day?" she asked him.

Christian shrugged. "It isn't easy," he said cheerfully, without looking up from her laptop. "Jonathan in particular seems to be a mild case of arrested development at times."

Andrea laughed aloud and told him, "That doesn't surprise me a bit. The kid's a complete geek. My parents still have boxes of his collectibles in their cellar."

"I don't doubt it," Christian said, laughing. "I know how heavily into comic books he is; I have to face those action figures on his desk every day." He began to carefully disassemble the laptop. "I think that's why I keep computer towers stacked up over here as I do, so that I can turn my attention to something besides Superman and Spider-Man and Batman and the Green Wasp and all their friends staring at me."

"Hey, that's the Green Hornet," Jonathan protested with mock indignation. Christian rolled his eyes, and everyone laughed.

Andrea was studying Jonathan's desktop. "Geez, Jonathan, it's a wonder you have any room to work," she commented with a smirk. "You're as bad as Denise with all her Hello Kitty stuff. Geez, Julianne, look at all _your_ junk!" Julianne's desk was littered with framed photos, snow globes, plastic troll figures, koosh balls, and several potted African violets.

"I like my junk," Julianne said with a sniff. "That happens to be one of the coolest things about working for Boss Prince. He lets us put anything we want on our desks."

"Well, almost anything," Jonathan amended slyly. "Anton had a whole row of those goofy dashboard hula dancers across the back of his desk, and they kept jiggling and swaying so much that Boss Prince and Mateo both told him to get rid of them because the moves were distracting the crud out of them."

"Seriously?" Andrea asked, staring at Anton in surprise. "My brother Tommy collects those things. His wife's constantly threatening to throw them all out."

Anton's eyes widened. "Really? My family continually makes fun of me for my collection. It seems it's a tradition in your family to collect things, what with Jonathan's figures, Julianne's knickknacks and now your other brother's hula girls. What do you collect?"

"Dust," said Andrea, which got her a healthy round of laughter that made her grin. "This seems like a great place to work. You've all got senses of humor, and things are really informal. Though, like I said, Mr. Enstad, I'm amazed these brats haven't driven you insane yet. You're just lucky you don't have all four quads working for you."

"Perish the thought," said Christian dryly, and Julianne and Jonathan both grinned. Then he sat up. "Ah," he said, "I think I've found the problem. You have several components that need replacing, Ms. Polidari, and I think I'd better install a new floppy-disk drive as well. This one looks worn out."

Andrea went to his desk and peered anxiously over the top of his computer monitor. "Is that going to be expensive?" she asked.

"No, not very," Christian said absently, coaxing some mysterious part out of the machine with a pair of tweezers. "I have most of the replacement items here in stock. I can send one of your siblings out for the rest of them tomorrow, and fate willing, it will be ready for you by the time you leave work in the evening." He looked up and added, "If you'd like to leave your work number, I'll call you when it's ready."

"Uh…that sounds okay, but…what's it going to cost?" Andrea asked. "I don't want to be a nag, but I don't get paid till next week, and I'm a bit short till then."

Christian glanced into the machine, weighed the small part in his hand and sat back in his chair. "I don't think it will exceed fifty dollars, and in fact it probably will be less than that. Is that acceptable?"

"I can swing that," Andrea said, relieved. "That's great, thanks, Mr. Enstad." Christian smiled in response, and she glanced out the door. "I better get home before it starts pouring out there. Thanks again, and you two brats, show up for supper."

"Yeah, okay, okay," Jonathan and Julianne said together, rolling their eyes at each other. Christian chuckled, Mateo grinned, and Anton watched curiously. Andrea looked back on her way out, and somehow hers and Anton's gazes collided and held for a long few seconds, before a rumble of distant thunder called her out.

An hour later she, Denise, Janine and the three quads were digging into generous helpings of spaghetti with meat sauce and carrying on a fairly animated conversation in which even Janine seemed content to participate. "So how come Mom and Dad kicked you out, anyway?" Jonathan eventually asked his twin.

Jeremy stopped eating and surveyed his brother, sisters and nieces. "Seems like I'm the family black sheep. All the rest of you have careers they approve of. Andrea, you're a respected journalist. Tommy owns a software company. Camille's a housewife and soccer mom, which just tickles Mom pink! Jon, you're an accountant, Julianne's a computer tech, and Jennette's a kindergarten teacher. And here's old Jeremy, a DJ—a profession everybody knows means you must be a total bum."

"Who says a DJ's a bum?" asked Julianne.

"Try telling Mom and Dad that," Jeremy retorted.

Andrea broke in, "Jeremy, I've been wondering. You keep saying they 'threw you out' or they 'kicked you out', that sort of thing, like it was done under duress and created a lot of hostility. Are you sure that's really the way it happened?"

Jeremy stared at her, then at Jonathan and Julianne by turns; the other quads both shrugged, and Jeremy sighed. "Well, we had some harsh words," he said.

"But they'd know as well as anyone else that you can't make a living on the kind of money you'll be earning," Andrea pointed out. "Maybe we should have a family meeting about this. If I call Mom and Dad and make a suggestion—" Just then the phone rang, evoking laughter, and Andrea got up. "Hold that thought, I'll be right back." They could hear her end of the conversation, and the quads looked at one another when she said, "Oh, hi there, Camille, what's up?" After a couple of seconds she gasped. "No kidding! When'd it start?" Another pause, then she said, "No, don't bother, they're all here at my place. We're having supper. As soon as we finish we'll come over there. Right, bye." She hung up and returned to the table. "Camille says Lauren's gone into labor, and she and Jimmy and Robin are at the hospital with Brian right now."

"Oh, gross, a baby?" groaned Janine.

"Everybody was once a baby, including you, Princess Superteen," Julianne informed her. "And I'm sure that when Andrea was about to have you, some dopey teenager said exactly the same thing about you that you just did about Lauren's baby. In fact, I hope they did." Denise snickered gleefully, Jonathan and Jeremy laughed, and Andrea grinned.

Janine rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, whatever. Mom, I'd rather stay here," she said.

"Why don't we just leave her?" Denise urged when Andrea frowned. "All she'll do is make smart remarks anyway. I wish Dad had let her stay in Brookline after all."

"Fine, Janine, do whatever you want," Andrea said tiredly, "as long as you do the dishes for us. If we get back and they aren't done, you'll lose privileges. Well, folks, how about we get finished here and then hit the road."

‡ ‡ ‡

Brian Knight was sitting on the edge of the hard plastic chair in the waiting room of Fantasy Island Hospital, his upper torso twisted in the direction of the double swinging doors that led to the interior of the building. Jimmy Omamara, Christian Enstad, Nick Okada and Grady Harding were there as well, telling anecdotes about the births of their own children (or in Christian's case, those of his nieces and nephews) in an attempt to keep him distracted. In another group across from the chairs the men occupied, their wives and some children were waiting: Leslie Enstad, Maureen Harding with Brianna, Myeko Okada with Alexander, Noelle and Dawn, and Camille Omamara with her youngest, nine-month-old daughter Robin. Maureen was patting her pregnant middle, and Leslie had locked her hands around her own, while Myeko was telling some animated story.

Out of nowhere, the door burst open and Andrea, the three quads, and Denise came in and found seats. Jonathan and Jeremy gravitated to the men, while Myeko got up and moved so that Andrea could sit beside Camille. "So how's our cousin, who always swore up and down she wasn't getting pregnant for any amount of money?" Andrea inquired.

"No word," Camille said. "Brian's been sitting like that for the last three hours without seeing anyone come out of there—well, at least nobody who was looking for him."

Andrea eyed him for a minute. "Huh. So are he and Lauren prepared for this kid?"

"I guess," Camille said, shrugging at her older sister. She looked at her thirteen-year-old niece, who shared classes with Camille's own thirteen-year-old son David. "Hi, Denise. Where's Janine?"

"She didn't want to come," said Denise, rolling her eyes. "Mom got your call and the first thing out of her mouth was 'ooh, gross, a baby!'."

Camille gave Andrea a wry look. "Janine's got some of me in her, I think," she said, sounding apologetic. "You ever have a problem with her, send her over to my house and I'll knock some sense into her head. I still want to whack that Troy upside his for what he did to you. I mean…I suppose he can't help being gay, but he could've been more graceful about telling you and dealing with it. Doesn't he ever talk to the girls?"

"He won't answer our phone calls," Denise said. "I don't want to try anymore, but Janine's stubborn. She still wants to go back to Brookline, y'know."

Leslie regarded her; all the girls were listening now. "How do you feel?"

"Me?" Denise peered at her shyly. "I like it here. I don't really have any friends yet, but I like it anyway. The kids are kinda…well, I don't know, clique-y."

"That can happen," Leslie said, nodding. "Has David introduced you to anyone?"

Denise snorted, "He's a boy. Right now I don't care about getting to know any boys, I just want some friends I can hang out with. I did join a couple of clubs…"

"That's a good start," Leslie said and smiled.

"Yeah, it's a great start," Camille agreed. "I guess Janine hasn't bothered, huh?"

While she and Andrea were discussing Janine, Leslie felt a twinge in her back and made a face that got a chuckle from Maureen. "Backache, huh?"

"Sort of," Leslie said, sighing. "All those symptoms I'd pretty much escaped up to now are starting to kick in, and Christian's always eyeballing me in case something new crops up so he can bug Dr. Hannaford. We both just noticed my bellybutton, too. I used to have an innie, and now it's an outie." Maureen laughed. "And me…" Leslie's eyes went wide with realization as she stared at her friend. "It just occurred to me—I have absolutely no clue how to change a diaper, or properly feed a baby, or bathe one safely…"

Maureen smirked and reached into a tote bag at her feet, extracting a book and handing it to Leslie. "I brought this with me since I've been using it to keep track of my progress and compare this pregnancy to my first one, but you know, I think you need it more than I do. Study this, because you're gonna have a test in a few months."

Leslie peered at the title. "_What to Expect When You're Expecting_," she read and opened it at random. "Oh my God, this is perfect!"

"Yep," Maureen said. "It defused a lot of Grady's insanity while I was pregnant with Brianna, and he's a lot calmer with this one. Every time something happens and Christian starts losing it, refer him to that book and tell him to read it carefully. You'll both be a lot better off. He'll be calmer, and your nerves won't be on edge from his going nuts."

"Wonderful," Leslie said, then looked apprehensively at her. "What about the stuff I need to learn, though?"

"Check the back. There's a section on breast-feeding, and it even shows you a couple of ways to hold twins. And if Christian's the expert on babies that he seems to pretend to be, he can show you how to change diapers and bathe them." Maureen looked oddly at her. "I thought he did that when you were babysitting his great-niece."

"Yeah, well, it didn't exactly stick," Leslie admitted sheepishly. "See, we've babysat for Lisi only twice." She frowned suddenly. "Come to think of it, it's been a week since we last heard from his sister. I hope something hasn't gone wrong."

Myeko leaned over, having overheard. "I promise you on pain of death I haven't said a single word…but rumors have started flying at the paper that old Negative Nordeman's got himself a hot romance." She lowered her voice to ask, "Do you think maybe something's gone wrong between him and Princess Anna-Laura?"

"I don't know," Leslie said slowly. "Maybe when Christian and I get home, we'll give her a call and find out how she's doing, and see if she says anything."


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- February 12, 2004

"Oh, this is beautiful, you two." Anna-Laura had come over with Lisi to have breakfast at Christian and Leslie's house, and she was standing at the top of the spiral staircase in Christian and Leslie's bedroom admiring the L-shaped privacy wall that had been built around part of the stairwell. "It would be wonderful for family photos."

"We were thinking that too," Leslie agreed.

Christian nodded, an arm around her. "We had to live in a spare bungalow for four days late last month, but the results were worth it. The interior rooms in the new wing are almost finished now, and Leslie and I are going to Coral Island next week and see if we can find tile that we agree on for the bathroom."

Anna-Laura laughed. "Don't let it drive you too far apart," she teased, glancing at the translucent blue plastic that still hung in the doorway to the upper floor of the new wing. "I truly wish it were closer to completion, in all honesty."

"Why?" Leslie asked.

Anna-Laura looked at her, then at Christian, then sighed deeply, glancing at Lisi who was sitting in the middle of the bedroom floor playing with one of the decorative pillows from the bed. "I feel as if I'm taking up space that Mr. Roarke needs, and I—" She shook her head disgustedly and folded her arms over her chest. "Don't let this get out, please. But Gregory has suggested that Lisi and I stay in his mansion with him until your twins are born and I can move into the new suite."

Christian and Leslie looked at each other in amazement. "What did you tell him?" Christian asked, frowning.

"I said I'd think about it," his sister replied, her fingers drumming on her arm.

"Maybe you shouldn't," Christian said with a raised eyebrow. "Being a princess makes all the difference, _äldresyster_. There has to be some measure of decorum. Aren't you the one who's the stickler for propriety?"

Anna-Laura stared at him and said incredulously, "I think Leslie's pregnancy has turned you into an old man, Christian Carl Tobias. It's the only explanation I can think of for this unbelievable change from the prince who defied all attempts at control to the king of conformity!"

Leslie laughed aloud. "Maybe we'll get the real Christian back after the babies are born," she kidded her sister-in-law, who laughed too. She hugged her husband, who was shaking his head in mostly good-natured resignation, and regarded Anna-Laura thoughtfully for a moment. Then she asked, "What was your gut reaction when he first asked you?"

"Shock," Anna-Laura admitted. "We have a nice friendship between us, but he's never suggested that he wants more than that. And I'm not certain I do at this time, either."

"Then it's too soon for you to move in with him," Christian said, "and don't tell me it's not what you're doing. That's what it will look like. Anna-Laura, things do get out, in spite of one's best intentions. If you feel it's too early in the relationship to know whether it's a romantic one, then it's obviously a bad idea to stay under his roof—no matter how platonic his intentions may be. Anyway, Leslie and I still haven't met the man, and I've heard enough about him that I'm not sure I trust him. Has he asked to meet us?"

"No," said Anna-Laura. She looked over at Lisi again. "I suppose you're right…I'll tell him my decision later today."

"In any case, Roald would likely begin orbiting the moon should he hear about it," noted Christian wryly, making his wife and sister laugh again. "Oh, by the way, when did you hear from him last? Has he mentioned how his martial-arts project is going?"

"Yes, he and Torvald Arenstam have been making quite the success of it. He told me that Torvald was actually very enthusiastic about it when he made the suggestion, and the two of them tried to get the rest of that unruly crowd of theirs in on it as well, but they all refused. So Roald and Torvald launched it on their own, and my son has finally had some decent press. Not only that, but Mikael and Gunnela Arenstam are relieved to see their son involved in something constructive for a change."

"That's great," Leslie said. "Father says the original classes Roald supervised here on the island are really popular, too." Just then the phone rang and she grinned. "Excuse me a minute." Christian released her, and he and Anna-Laura followed her deeper into the bedroom. Anna-Laura picked up Lisi and the pillow she was still flailing, while Leslie spoke into the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi Leslie, it's Camille. Lauren just had a boy about ten minutes ago, and Brian's over the moon. His name's going to be Kevin Anthony, and he's nineteen and a half inches long and weighs eight pounds, five ounces. Big bruiser."

"Wow, super!" Leslie exclaimed. "How's Lauren doing?"

"Brian just went back to see her and the baby, so we don't have any word except that the doctor told us she's fine." Camille's gusty sigh relayed as a burst of static in Leslie's ear. "Maybe now that she's had that baby, Lauren'll get back to normal. All her bawling and kvetching was really driving me nuts."

Leslie burst out laughing. "I sure hope so! We'll try to get down there later today if we can, or at least this evening. Do you know if they're going to release Lauren tomorrow, or when? You never know with hospitals these days."

"Yeah, that's for sure," Camille agreed. "I don't know, but we'll keep you posted. If you and Christian can both come, all the better. Brian swore up and down he wasn't going home till he could take Lauren and Kevin with him."

"Okay, I'll let Christian know. Thanks for the news update." She hung up and turned to Christian and Anna-Laura. "Lauren gave birth about ten minutes ago, according to Camille. She had a boy, eight pounds five ounces, and nineteen and a half inches. His name's going to be Kevin Anthony, and they evidently want us to come down there when we can."

"Ah," said Christian and grinned. "I'm sure Brian is thrilled. I think we can make time later this afternoon to get over there."

"That's happy news," Anna-Laura agreed, gently jouncing Lisi in her arms.

"Lauren told me last week that as soon as she—" Leslie stopped short and froze, her eyes enormous. "Oh…oh my God!" she breathed.

"What?" Christian cried, instantly alarmed.

Leslie turned to him and lit up with wonder. "I feel one of the babies moving! Oh Christian, quick, come here and feel it!" Christian's mouth dropped open and he sprang to her side, flattening a hand on her swollen abdomen just below hers. There was a pause, and he frowned slightly, staring at his hand. Then Leslie felt the fluttery movement again, a sort of tentative patting sensation from within her, and she gasped, grabbing Christian's hand and moving it over that spot. A second later, his hazel eyes grew round with astonishment.

"There's really someone in there!" he whispered, awestruck. _"Herregud_, I can actually feel it!" He focused abruptly on her and asked, "Does it hurt?"

Leslie shook her head. "No, it just feels like someone's pushing in there, that's all, and not very hard." She looked suddenly at Anna-Laura, who was gazing on with a reminiscent little smile. "What did it feel like for you?"

Anna-Laura laughed softly. "Ceci was quieter than Roald; she would push at me with her hands and feet. Roald was a kicker."

Christian grinned at some memory and told her, "I used to watch your abdomen when you complained that he was kicking you. Sometimes I could see bumps appear and vanish there, and it was the most peculiar thing I'd ever seen."

"Oh really, _ungstebror?"_ Anna-Laura asked teasingly. "Just wait about two months, when Leslie starts really feeling it. There are two of them, and you'll probably see more." She focused curiously on her sister-in-law. "Leslie, your hair looks longer."

"It _is_ longer," Leslie said. Her hair was now shoulder-blade-length. "I keep meaning to get a haircut, but somehow I just never get around to it."

"I'd rather you didn't," Christian said wistfully, gathering some in one hand and rubbing it between his thumb and two fingers. "Perhaps when the twins are born, but don't you think you could leave it alone until then?"

Leslie looked at him in surprise. "You like it this way? I had it cut back to shoulder-length not too long before Teppo died, and I've kept it that way ever since then."

"Maybe you deserve to have a change, then," Anna-Laura suggested, "even if it's just a temporary one." She smiled. "And if Christian likes it…"

Leslie giggled and admitted, "Well, it always feels nice to have him play with it. It's just that pregnancy's making it grow a lot faster, and it's longer than I'm used to, so I was going to have it cut. Maybe not…maybe right before my due date comes around, I'll have it done, because there won't be any time after I give birth."

"But…" Christian began.

Anna-Laura broke in, "It's probably wiser for Leslie to keep her hair at her usual length, Christian. She doesn't need to spend a lot of time fussing with it, and she won't have the luxury to do it after she gives birth. And when the babies are old enough to begin grasping things, they'll reach for her hair and pull. Don't argue with her if she wants to cut it; it may be the best choice for her." She looked thoughtfully at Leslie. "In the meantime, if you want to keep it out of the way, you can just tie it back. But you do look different, between your pregnancy and the longer hair. You seem fresher, somehow."

"Exactly so," Christian said with a decisive nod. "You've grown more beautiful than ever, my Rose, and I want the chance to savor that before our family doubles in size."

"Don't think you're going to get away with all that sweet flattery, my love," Leslie teased him, grinning. "You're going to be helping with the twins in just about every possible capacity. We're both going to be done for every day."

"When do you plan to stop working, Leslie?" Anna-Laura asked.

Leslie shrugged. "I guess I'll go on till I'm just too tired to keep going. Father said he can probably get along all right in my last few weeks and during the first couple of months after the twins get here, but he did suggest that if I really got stir-crazy, I could bring the twins to the main house and do light work there while I took care of them. And if anything came up, Mariki would be there."

"But it seems she's bent on working this weekend and for quite a few yet to come," said Christian, sighing gently and then smiling at his wife. "I thought I enjoyed my work, but really, my Rose, you seem to be in love with your job. Sometimes I feel as if I have competition for your heart."

"Impossible," Leslie said and grinned. "You'll always be Number One with me, my darling. Omigosh, there goes that twin again. Quick, Christian, put your hand here." They stood with hands flattened on Leslie's middle, heads touching and eyes fixed on the bulge containing their unborn babies, while Anna-Laura watched, smiling.

§ § § -- February 14, 2004

"And this," Roarke said, gesturing at their second gang of guests that Saturday, "is a group of young collegians who have aspirations we've encountered before. They're here for the Battle of the Bands that is being held here tomorrow and sponsored in part by the local radio station; in fact, young Jeremy Ichino's first job-related duty outside the station will be as one of the judges of the contest."

Leslie watched the group of four—three young men and an equally young woman—come down the dock. A twin patted her from within and she patted back, absently. "Where do they come from? I suppose their fantasy is to win the Battle."

"Yes, that's the stated goal," Roarke said, catching her movement. "Are you all right?"

She blinked and then grinned sheepishly. "It's the first time I've felt it since Thursday," she explained. "I've started feeling the babies move. It feels like they're patting me."

Roarke laughed. "Indeed! I'm sure Christian was quite excited. Anyhow, to get back to the business at hand, these students come from quite close by—Hilo, Hawaii, to be exact. They are Randy Kaapana, Drew Sheridan, Holly Misuki and Brandon Chong."

About an hour later Roarke and Leslie drove the foursome to the greensward where Christian and Leslie's wedding reception had been held three years before; several other bands were setting up shop and launching into rehearsal, and their guests were eager to get started with their own practice. They were thrilled to find their instruments waiting for them already, and Roarke and Leslie left four very happy college students practicing away.

After leaving Leslie at the main house to take phone calls and handle mail, Roarke drove to the radio station and waited for Jeremy's morning shift to end. In about ten minutes Jeremy emerged from the building and was very surprised when he saw Roarke waving at him. "Hi, Mr. Roarke, what's up?" he asked.

Roarke smiled. "I thought you might like to get an anonymous preview of the bands who will be performing in the contest," he said.

"That sounds great," Jeremy said enthusiastically. "How many are we judging?"

"Seven," Roarke said, and filled him in briefly on the various groups on the way back to the greensward. "You'll have more information tomorrow when the contest actually takes place, but for now you will at least be able to get a sample of what you'll be hearing."

Jeremy nodded and followed Roarke down the greensward to where the bands were still practicing. "Are they gonna know I'm one of the judges?" he asked.

"I won't be staying," Roarke told him. "I have some other duties to attend to. However, the musicians don't know who the judges are, so you can join the other people you see here listening to the various bands and make a few preliminary observations."

"Ah, gotcha, Mr. Roarke," Jeremy said. "Thanks for the ride." Roarke smiled acknowledgement and left, and he strolled casually along the grass, glancing at the other spectators from time to time, taking in the sounds of the different bands. It wasn't easy to get good first impressions, what with each band's rehearsal horning in on all the others'; but Jeremy enjoyed himself all the same.

His growling stomach got in the way before he heard all the bands properly, and he decided to head for the café in the town square and get some lunch. While he was there, he ran into Julianne and Jonathan, who were taking their own lunch break, and joined them for the meal. "So how was your first week on the air, bro?" Jonathan asked, grinning.

"Easier than I thought," Jeremy said, "and more fun too. And there'll be extracurricular activities too. In fact, this weekend Mr. Roarke asked me to judge the Battle of the Bands. So this is gonna be a really cool job."

"It _sounds_ cool," Julianne agreed, then grinned. "Any good-looking guys in any of those bands, by chance?"

Her brothers laughed at her. "I wasn't looking for good-looking _guys,"_ Jeremy said, and Julianne snorted while they laughed again, before Jeremy's attention was distracted by a young Asian woman walking uncertainly into the café. "Whoa…now there's an example of what I'd've been looking for."

Jonathan peered at the woman and nodded approval. "Nice choice, bro," he said. "If she'll give you the time of day, ask her if she's got a sister." Jeremy glanced at him in amusement, then got up and approached the woman, who had halted in the middle of the floor and was peering hesitantly around.

"Hi," he said, "need some help with anything?"

She started, then smiled sheepishly at him. "I was just looking for an empty table," she said, "but they all seem to be taken."

"It's lunch hour," Jeremy said. "Listen, there's an empty seat at our table—I'm just eating with my brother and sister. Want to join us?"

The young woman looked quite surprised, but she nodded anyway, peering curiously at Jeremy. "That's great," she said, "as long as they don't mind a total stranger sitting with them. I mean, I don't want to crash anyone's private party."

"You won't," Jeremy assured her. "Come on over here." He led her back to the table and gestured at the empty seat, addressing the other quads. "Mind if we have some company? This is—" He stopped when he realized he hadn't asked his companion's name.

The young woman giggled at the sight of his red face. "I'm Holly Misuki," she said.

Jeremy grinned sheepishly. "Hi, Holly. I'm Jeremy Ichino, and this is my brother Jonathan and my sister Julianne."

Holly, Jonathan and Julianne greeted one another; then Holly glanced back and forth between the brothers. "You look like twins," she said.

"We are," said Jonathan. "Julianne has a twin sister too, Jennette, and the four of us together make up a set of quadruplets."

Holly blinked rapidly with recognition. "Hey, wait a minute, I remember…my mother keeps old magazines, and I used to curl up in the basement on rainy days and read through them. We have a whole bunch of them with articles about the famous Ichino quadruplets of Fantasy Island. It must be cool to be quads…and probably a pain in the neck sometimes too, I'd bet." She grinned at them.

Julianne laughed aloud. "Jonathan and Jeremy used to get away with more than Jennette and I did. We kept hoping our mother would get the hint somewhere around fourth or fifth grade and quit buying matching school clothes for us, but she didn't, and we had to gang up on her and tell her to stop dressing us alike because the other kids were making fun of us about it."

"I think it devastated poor Mom," Jonathan cracked. "She thought it was easier dressing us alike because she could just get two of everything. But Julianne and Jennette had to put up with it longer than we did, since my dad stepped in and intervened. He said that dressing boys alike was too cutesy."

"I heard Miss Leslie's twins are gonna be identical," Julianne remarked. "I hope she doesn't do what Mom did."

"You ought to tell Prince Christian so he can pass the message on," Jeremy said with a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Holly. But yeah…when we were kids it was both a pain and an advantage. Jonathan and I could pass for each other till we got to be about eleven and all four of us caught chickenpox at the same time. Jonathan had a really itchy spot on his right arm, and he couldn't quit scratching it no matter how much Mom told him not to. Now he has a scar on that arm, so anyone can tell us apart by looking for that."

Holly laughed and said, "I bet you guys could really tell some stories. What's Jennette doing these days?"

"She teaches kindergarten in Hawaii," said Julianne. "She's married and has a little boy—the only one of us so far with a family."

"Where in Hawaii?" Holly asked excitedly. "I grew up in Hanalei and I'm in nursing school in Hilo."

"She's on Kauai," Julianne said. "So you're not too far from home. Here for a vacation or something?"

"Sort of," said Holly, "but right now I'm on a break from everything—school, vacation, whatever. I'm a CNA and I'll be an RN once I graduate this summer."

"That's cool," said Julianne. "You could get a job anywhere. Nurses are always in demand. Sometimes I think I should've gone into nursing, but whenever I say so, somebody reminds me that I get sick every time I bleed from a paper cut." On the laughter, the waitress came and took Holly's order, and the conversation became animated; it remained so even after Julianne and Jonathan had to go back to work. Jeremy and Holly discovered enough interests, and enough general ideas about life, in common that when Jeremy asked her if she'd like to go to the Saturday-night luau with him that evening, Holly promptly accepted, her smile indicating that she was very happy he'd asked.

Holly turned out to be extremely impressed with the luau, making Jeremy more than a little glad that he'd taken the initiative and invited her. It had been a long time since he'd been to a luau and was having the time of his life, dancing with Holly, learning more and more about her, and feeling more and more drawn to her. Holly was warm and cheerful, and she seemed receptive to his attention; she never danced with anyone other than him, and he began to entertain thoughts of cultivating a relationship with her. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility; Hawaii was an easy charter flight away at any time, and there was no reason he couldn't see her on weekends when his Saturday shift at the station ended. He could spend an afternoon with her, stay overnight in a hotel or someplace, and return to Fantasy Island on Sunday evening. He was so busy dreaming that it took him several minutes to realize that Holly was singing along with the current song; her voice caught his full attention then, and he listened in amazement. When she finished, she saw him watching with his mouth open and grinned self-consciously. "Guess I'm not as good as I thought I was," she kidded.

"Cripes, no, you're better than anybody else I've heard, short of pros," Jeremy insisted, "and I oughta know—I was a roadie for a few years, with some really good bands. Do you ever sing in public?"

"All the time," Holly said. "In fact, that's part of why I'm here. I'm in a band with three guys from school, and we're competing in the Battle of the Bands here this weekend."

Jeremy felt himself go hot and cold by swift turns. "Oh no," he groaned.

"Huh?" Holly said blankly.

He cleared his throat and found a smile somewhere. "Nothing," he said quickly, "I just remembered something, that's all. Listen, just let me know when you're ready and I'll take you back to your bungalow, okay?"

"Sure," Holly agreed, "but I was hoping to hang out here till it's over."

"No problem," Jeremy said, but he wondered uneasily how he was ever going to put up a façade of normalcy for her. _I can't tell her I'm a judge for that contest,_ he thought, his despair welling up. _If I do, she'll back off because I won't be impartial anymore. Or worse even than that…she might think she and her band will have an advantage because I like her, and think they've got it sewn up. Aw man, what'm I gonna do?_

Fortunately for Jeremy, Holly turned out to be more worn down from the day's activities than she'd realized, and he was able to take her back to her bungalow shortly after eleven. As soon as he'd dropped her off, he headed straight for the main house. He'd seen Leslie several times at the luau, so he knew Roarke would be awake; but he could only hope the man wasn't out someplace, because he desperately needed to talk to him.

To his relief, Roarke was indeed there, sorting through some mail. He looked up when Jeremy burst in and smiled questioningly. "Good evening, Jeremy, can I help you?"

"I hope so, Mr. Roarke," Jeremy said, collapsing into one of the chairs in front of the desk. "I've got a problem. I met this really nice girl today, and I think she's as interested in me as I am in her—long-term, I mean."

"That's wonderful, Jeremy," Roarke said warmly.

"It might not be," he replied gloomily. "See, she's a singer in one of the bands that's in the contest this weekend."

Roarke's expression showed his instant and complete comprehension. "Ah, I see," he murmured reflectively.

"I'm not sure I could maintain impartiality," Jeremy said, "but even if I could, there's still a problem. I really like her, Mr. Roarke, enough that I want to keep seeing her after this weekend if I can and if she's okay with it. But if she finds out I'm a judge in the contest, I don't know how she'll react. She might tell me she doesn't want to see me anymore…or she might decide her band is a sure bet to win, just because she knows me."

Roarke nodded. "A very difficult dilemma," he said sympathetically.

Jeremy stared at him, tortured, and asked plaintively, "Should I resign as a judge, Mr. Roarke? I don't want to taint this thing. I want it to be as fair as possible, and I don't know if I can do that."

Roarke frowned. "Jeremy, you realize that we need at least two judges…"

"What about Miss Leslie?" Jeremy asked.

"She must attend to the other fantasy while I am judging," Roarke explained, "and I don't know of anyone else who can do it. Christian is very busy, as I understand it—"

"Maybe I can find someone," Jeremy said quickly. "If I can, Mr. Roarke, will it be okay if I resign as a judge?"

Roarke studied him. "What if you cannot?"

Jeremy winced. "I don't really want to think about it." He peered worriedly at the older man and asked, "Is it really gonna be that big a catastrophe if I quit?"

Roarke continued to watch him with that penetrating gaze that made Jeremy feel as if he were a specimen under a microscope. After a moment he said quietly, "I can only tell you to follow your instincts, Jeremy—but you should be aware of all possible ramifications that could result from your decision. Think about it before you do, all right?"

"Okay, Mr. Roarke," Jeremy said after a deep sigh. "Okay…I'll sleep on it. But I still think I should quit." He got up and left before Roarke could respond, and Roarke sat for a few minutes after his departure, gazing thoughtfully after him.

When he got back to Andrea's, Jeremy was very surprised to find Julianne and Jonathan there too, having soda and snacks with Andrea and playing Hearts. They looked up when he came into the kitchen. "About time you showed," said Andrea. "We were waiting for you so we could get a good poker game going. Janine wouldn't play, and Denise doesn't know how, so I sent them to bed."

"I'm not in the mood for poker anyway," Jeremy said, scowling. "I always lose."

"Yeah, and you always win," Julianne said to Andrea, who laughed. "Hey, Jer, what's up? You look like something went wrong."

"It probably did," Jeremy muttered and regarded them. "Jon, Jule, what're you two doing tomorrow?"

"Working," said Jonathan and Julianne together.

Jeremy sagged. "Andrea?"

"I meant to go to Coral Island…I have to replace that ancient mattress of mine," said Andrea. "Why?"

Jeremy looked around the table at them, then sank into a chair. "I might as well start at the beginning," he mumbled, and with that explained the story of how Roarke had asked him to be a judge for the Battle of the Bands, his meeting with Holly Misuki, their date at the luau, and Holly's revelation. "So," he concluded, "I went to Mr. Roarke for some advice, and he said he can't find anyone else who can be a judge. He said Miss Leslie can't do it since she has to supervise the other fantasy, and Prince Christian can't do it since he's busy." He paused and peered at the other two quads. "Is he?"

"Yup. He's got projects everywhere, and we all have to be in the office tomorrow to help him keep up with everything," Julianne said. "Too bad you didn't become a computer programmer or something, Jer. You'd have a sure job."

"I don't like messing with computers," Jeremy said, "except to play games and surf the Net. Anyway, so there's nobody else who could take my place…but if I don't resign, either I lose Holly, or she and her band think I'm their ticket to winning the contest, and it'll be like I rigged the thing."

Andrea and the quads nodded thoughtfully, looking at one another. "Well," Andrea murmured, "I suppose I could put off the shopping trip, but I'm afraid to. If I don't go tomorrow, I won't get another chance till at least two weeks from now, and by then the money I put aside for the mattress will get spent on something else. And I need the blasted thing, because the one I've got now is destroying my back." She surveyed the quads and said with exaggerated doom in her voice, "Don't get old, you guys, it hurts." They laughed, and she added, "Besides, I have to go pick up my laptop. I forgot to get it today."

"I think it's ready," Julianne said. "Boss Prince was working pretty hard on it this afternoon, and I saw him putting it back together and closing it up. Maybe you could stop in and get it when you come back from buying your new mattress."

Andrea nodded. "Might just do that," she mused, thumbing through the cards in her hand. She looked up after a moment and frowned slightly. "Uh, listen…what do you guys know about Anton Lauterhoff?"

Julianne and Jonathan looked at each other. "Well," Julianne said, "he's a nice guy…"

"He's kinda private—I mean, he's got nothing on Boss Prince for fanaticism about it," Jonathan said with a half-grin, "but he doesn't really talk much. He's from Germany and he still has family there—goes back each year to visit them, but so far they've never come here to see him, far as I know."

"Hm," mumbled Andrea with a faint nod. "And that's it?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Well, it's not like Boss Prince thought he had to do a criminal check on him or anything."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "I just figured you'd know him better than that, since you've worked with him for several years by now."

"Any special reason you ask?" Julianne queried.

Andrea glanced at her and shook her head. "No, no really special reason, I was just wondering. Well, look, since Jeremy's home, why don't we call it a night. I'm ready to drop, even if it _is_ on that miserable sack of droopy lumps that calls itself a mattress."


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- February 15, 2004

Andrea had left quite early to catch the first ferry over to Coral Island so that she could take her time looking at and testing mattresses; to her surprise she had found one she liked, at a reasonable price, without too much fuss, and had been able to return to Fantasy Island within two hours. The Ring Road was almost completely level, all the way around the island, to facilitate bike travel as the main mode of transportation, and Andrea was grateful for that, since she was still woefully out of shape from her years in Brookline and taking the T to work in Boston every day.

She enjoyed the ride, breathing in the old familiar scents of the island where she had been born and raised; and whenever she caught the smell of the South Pacific, she inhaled deeply. Somehow, to her, the South Pacific smelled different from the North Atlantic; but it could be just the effect of being home again. She understood Janine's longing for Brookline far better than Janine thought she did, for she'd had the same underlying homesickness for this place during her years in Massachusetts. She loved the historic little state, but Fantasy Island was her home and she intended to spend the rest of her life here.

Andrea felt better when she coasted into the town square and parked her bike in front of Enstad Computer Services. This time, when she entered the shop, its only two occupants were Christian and Anton, and Christian was deep into another repair project. He did glance up and smile when she came in, and took the time to greet her. "Hello, Ms. Polidari, I presume you're here for your laptop?"

"If it's ready, yes," Andrea said.

Anton Lauterhoff got up from his desk and said, "Don't interrupt yourself, Christian, I'll take care of it. I know you're busy."

"And how," Christian agreed wryly. "Thank you, Anton, I appreciate it. Excuse me, please." Andrea nodded, and Christian turned his full attention back to the computer tower he was working on while Anton approached her and paused near a large table on the side of Christian's desk that faced the back of the room. The table held ten or twelve towers and laptops, each with a Post-it note attached to it that bore its owner's name.

Anton scanned the collection and nodded, lifting one of the laptops. "Here's yours, Ms. Polidari. It's actually a little less than we anticipated—forty-five dollars for the whole repair job."

"Oh, that's great," said Andrea. She dug around in her purse for her checkbook, at which point the phone rang. Anton picked up the one on Mateo's desk while Andrea wrote out her check. "One moment," the German said and put the caller on hold, turning to his boss. "I'm sorry, Christian, but it's the newspaper's Humanities department again. More of the same trouble, I think."

"It's never anything _but_ the same trouble," Christian noted with a resigned sigh. "Let me install this one piece first. Find out exactly what the problem is for me, will you?"

Anton nodded and got back on the line. Andrea ripped the check out of the checkbook and waited quietly for him to finish, watching him while he was focused on something other than her. Anton Lauterhoff was a little taller than she was, with a slightly stocky build but not really overweight. After a moment he hung up and delivered the verdict in technical terms Andrea didn't understand. Christian groaned aloud, then nodded and withdrew his hands from the tower, blowing out his breath and then smiling ruefully at Andrea. "My apologies. It's been hectic lately, and this request from the newspaper comes at one of the worst possible times."

"My sister Camille's told me about it, since her friend Myeko works there," Andrea remarked and grinned. "Apparently they won't let anyone except you tinker with their machines anymore."

"I haven't figured that out yet," Anton complained lightly. "I'm the main troubleshooter here, but evidently at some point a couple of years ago, all the computers in that department went down at the same time, and Christian resuscitated them all—apparently solidifying his reputation as a miracle worker over there. Now they can't even remember my name, and I can always tell when they call because they demand, 'Can Prince Christian come and fix our dinosaurs again?' " They all laughed while Anton accepted Andrea's check and Christian pulled open a drawer in his desk, extracting some items and slipping them into his pocket. Anton glanced over the check and smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Andrea said, "and thank you both for fixing this thing. Considering how busy you are, I feel like I underpaid you for doing it so fast."

"Ach," Christian said dismissively, "that's the business we're in. Now, if you two will kindly excuse me, I'm off to see if I can raise those doddering old machines from the dead yet again." He rolled his eyes, making Anton and Andrea both laugh, and grinned before making his way out the door.

"I've heard talk," Andrea said, chuckling. "My little sister Julianne probably said it best: there are two things Prince Christian loves more than anything else on earth, and one of them is this business of his…the other's Miss Leslie."

Anton nodded, smiling. "I think she's right. Well, if you find any problems with that laptop, just give us a call and we'll check them out. But Christian's very thorough."

"Oh, I'm not worried. He has an excellent reputation," Andrea said. "I appreciate the trouble you went to, no matter what. I mean, I can see Prince Christian's got a lot of work waiting for him, and with all those completed projects sitting on that table…"

"We've all been putting in some overtime," Anton agreed, chuckling, "but Christian tries to keep things from going overboard as much as he can. He has added incentive in any case, what with his wife being pregnant and his concern about her." He cleared his throat and opened a cash drawer that had been built into Jonathan's desk, depositing Andrea's check inside it. "Before you leave, Ms. Polidari…"

Andrea had been halfway to the door. "Yes?"

Anton looked slightly uncomfortable, she thought, but his voice was steady when he spoke. "I wondered if perhaps you were free sometime this week…to accompany me to dinner? Perhaps even this evening?"

Momentarily speechless, Andrea stared at him in astonishment. She'd taken a certain notice of him, but she hadn't believed he'd given her a second thought. She had to admit that it was nice to be wrong. Smiling at him, she said, "I am free tonight, and I'd like that very much. Please just call me Andrea, okay?"

"Then I am Anton, and I'm very happy to hear it," he said, returning her smile for the first time. There was something in it, that smile meant just for her, that made him look a little different to her somehow—more appealing than he'd been in the beginning. "When can I come for you, then?"

‡ ‡ ‡

"Hello, Your Highness…welcome back," said the receptionist in the lobby of the building occupied by the _Fantasy Island Chronicle_. Her smile was as wry as Christian's return one, which graduated into a laugh when he registered her expression.

"I don't know if it's nice to be back or not," he remarked, making the receptionist laugh as well. "Humanities again, of course."

"Of course," she said. "Good luck." Christian grinned and headed for that department; he'd been here so many times that he knew the building almost as though he were an employee here. He strode up the long main hall till he came to a pair of flights of steps, one going up and the other down. He chose the up staircase and rounded the railing at the top, opening the first door on the right. The place was mostly unchanged, except for its occupants. Bud Shroyer was still there, and so was Myeko Okada; the two desks at the back were held by other employees now. Young Kevin Mossevich, an eager-beaver reporter, had landed his dream job in Hawaii and left more than a year before; and Gordy Strassner, the longtime photographer for the Chronicle till scandal had sent him off to accept a job in Canada, had been replaced by a cheerful Chinese girl whom everyone liked on sight. Though Christian couldn't remember her name, he did recall that she was the young daughter of the sheriff's secretary, Mei-Lian Ching. "Hello, all," he said as he came in.

They all looked up and smiled at him, including the redheaded young reporter who had taken Kevin Mossevich's place and kept up with the high-school teams and their performance across each school year. "Hello, Your Highness," they said as one, except for Myeko, who said, "Hi, Christian. It's mine again."

"Aha. What happened this time?" he asked, setting down his briefcase.

"The CD drive won't work," she said and sighed heavily. "To tell you the truth, I'm astounded this thing works at all." Myeko suddenly brightened. "Hey, Christian, isn't your sister seeing Negative Nordeman?"

"I think so," Christian said, pausing to stare at her in surprise. "Why?"

"You _think_ so?" Myeko repeated, some of her hopeful light falling away. "Don't tell me they're gonna break up!"

"Well, I can't tell you one way or the other," Christian admitted, "for we've seen little of Anna-Laura lately. I expect if she had stopped seeing him, however, Leslie and I would probably have heard about it by now." He extracted a screwdriver from his briefcase and began to twist screws out of the tower housing. "Why do you ask?"

"I was going to see if maybe you could put a bug in her ear, have her suggest to him that he could authorize the funds to replace all the computers in this place," Myeko said wistfully. "I figured, if he thinks of Princess Anna-Laura as his girlfriend, she might have enough clout with him to make him listen. Tell her to ask him to take her on a tour of the newspaper building or something, and she'd see firsthand just how bad it really is."

Christian laughed aloud. "That's a rather sneaky and roundabout way of getting new equipment, don't you think?"

"I can't come up with anything better, and I figured that idea might actually have a chance of working," Myeko said, propping her chin on her fist to watch him lift the housing off the tower. "Y'know, Christian, I really don't mean to sound like a gossip, but it occurred to me that something must've happened that old Negative didn't like too much. He's never exactly a paragon of sweetness and light to begin with, and everybody in the place is scared silly of him—including the fat cats who're running it. Just this morning he came stomping through here, intimidating the guts out of everybody and going over a copy of today's paper, looking for something to criticize. Not that that's much different from what he normally does, but this time he went so far as to fire half a dozen staff." Christian paused again and stared at her. "I wondered if something wasn't maybe going on in his personal life or something. Like I said, I don't want to sound like a gossip, and I wouldn't bother sticking my nose in, except that that's never happened before. I honestly think he's taking out whatever frustrations he has on the staff here. That's why I mention it."

Christian nodded once or twice and returned his attention to the computer, gently pushing the CD tray in and out a few times. He had a feeling he knew what probably lay behind Nordeman's alleged rampage, but he didn't see the need to fill Myeko in, even though she was Leslie's friend. He had no particular wish to betray his sister's confidence. "Well, I don't know for certain myself. I have some idea, but I can't really be sure."

"I'm not looking for the story," Myeko said quickly, and he had to smile ruefully at that; his and Leslie's friends were all very well versed in his somewhat fanatical pursuit of privacy. "I only thought it might be beneficial to the staff here if…well…"

"I understand what you're trying to do, Myeko," Christian assured her. "Don't think I have the wrong idea about your intentions. Perhaps I'll talk to Anna-Laura after I return home this evening, but that depends on where she is. I don't know how much she's really seeing of Gregory Nordeman." He pushed the CD tray back in and slanted a glance at her. "_Negative_ Nordeman?"

"For obvious reasons," Myeko said dryly.

Christian grinned. "Leslie and I still haven't met him, so I can't verify that. Well, let me at least see if I can fix this thing for you." He began to tinker with the drive, wondering in spite of himself what sort of state Anna-Laura's budding relationship with Gregory Nordeman was really in.

‡ ‡ ‡

Roarke and Leslie were having a late lunch on the veranda when Anna-Laura made an appearance, wheeling Lisi's stroller along with her. "I hope I'm not interrupting," she said, seeing that they were in the middle of the meal.

"Not at all, Your Highness," Roarke said warmly. "Please sit and join us."

"Thank you, Mr. Roarke," Anna-Laura said with some relief in her voice, taking the chair Christian usually used. She noticed. "What happened to Christian? It was my understanding that he usually takes meals with you two on weekends."

Leslie explained, "I called his office to tell him we were eating late, due to assorted events of the morning, and I found out he was out on a call—fixing someone's broken computer at the newspaper again. I'm afraid that by the time he gets finished, we'll be finished too." She grinned. "I'll probably take a plate over to him later on. What's up?"

Anna-Laura swallowed hard and stared at her hands, folded in her lap. "I'm not sure how to go about asking this," she said. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning, Leslie, so that you'll understand why I feel the need to ask." She met her sister-in-law's gaze. "You know, of course, that Gregory suggested Lisi and I stay with him until you and Christian can provide rooms for me."

"Right," said Leslie quizzically.

"I knew Christian was right about my not actually doing it," Anna-Laura said, "but I still felt bad about turning Gregory down. He wanted to know why, and I told him that I have a certain visibility, as royalty, and it might be damaging not only to me but to him as well. But he reacted quite differently from what I'd expected. When I finished explaining my reasons to him, he promptly proposed marriage."

"Oh wow," Leslie blurted, astonished.

"I suppose that's as legitimate a reaction as any," Anna-Laura said dryly, smiling faintly at Leslie's sheepish grin. "I was rather startled myself."

"What did you tell him?" Roarke inquired.

"I said no," Anna-Laura admitted. "It's simply too soon for me; I like the man as a friend, and I have some attraction to him—but it's not been so long since we met each other. And moreover, he has a terrible temper. When I tried to tell him why I was turning him down, he simply ordered me out of his house; and when I did leave, he slammed the door after me. He claims to be in love with me…"

"Perhaps he is," Roarke offered. "Everyone falls in love at a different pace, Your Highness, and it's not irrational for him to make such a claim."

Anna-Laura nodded. "I realize that," she said, "but something in me wonders, all the same. I don't know if he truly loves me—at least, enough to try to understand my position and make allowances for it. If he cares that much for me, don't you think he could try to meet me halfway?"

"It seems so on the surface," Roarke said, "but he may have the same complaint about you." He sat back and smiled a little. "Granted, I don't know him especially well; since his arrival on the island, he's been mostly a recluse. However, when he and I were in negotiations over the sale of the mansion he now lives in, I got enough of an impression of him to know that he has suffered a great deal in his life, and that he has a very quick and very fiery temper. He is a determined man, Your Highness, and I sensed that when he sees something he wants, he pursues it with particular doggedness until he eventually gets it."

"And it sounds as if you're the latest thing he's pursuing," Leslie agreed.

Anna-Laura frowned in consternation. "I don't mind being pursued, but I should think he would have a care for my thoughts. He's quite self-focused, I've found. Whatever he claims in regard to his feelings for me, I'm afraid I need to put some distance between him and me." She gave Leslie a worried look. "That's why I must ask you this. Properly Christian should be here as well, but since he isn't available, I'll have to beg it of you. I'm a little homesick…not that your island isn't lovely, Mr. Roarke, I've truly enjoyed my stay here and the chance to spend time with Christian and Leslie. But I'm beginning to feel crowded by Gregory, and I think it's best for both of us that he have the chance to cool down. Leslie, I know I promised you and Christian to stay until the babies are two or three months old and assist in their care…but I find I need to return home to Lilla Jordsö. I haven't been in close contact with Roald, although I've heard from Gabriella, who still tends to come to me for advice, as her closest elder female relative."

"If you need to go home, Anna-Laura, then go," Leslie urged. "We'll miss you, of course, especially since I was looking forward to having you around to lean on—after all, I'll be a brand-new mother, and you've had experience." Both women laughed. "But don't feel as if you're obligated to stay. We can find help here—I expect there'll be no shortage of applicants once the word gets out that Christian and I need live-in help."

Anna-Laura smiled. "Leslie, you're more understanding than I have a right to ask you to be," she said, "and frankly, it's occurred to me that Gabriella should learn to stand on her own two feet as queen. After all, she wanted the throne badly enough that she and Anna-Kristina had any number of loud and bitter fights about it as children, and she thought she was the most fortunate young woman on earth when Anna-Kristina abdicated the succession. However, she doesn't seem to have completely stepped into her role, and I thought my being away for an extended time would help her to grow into it properly. Unfortunately, it looks as if she'll be able to use me as a crutch again."

"Don't let her," Leslie said. "If I were you, I'd start suggesting to her that she think about what seems appropriate to do in a given situation. You shouldn't let Gabriella take any more advantage of you than you were willing to let Gregory Nordeman do." She smiled. "Besides, I know you're still grieving for Axel and Cecilia, and you need time for that. Your only real responsibility should be to Lisi—and to yourself."

"You're too generous," Anna-Laura murmured, smiling apologetically at her. "I've had repeated reason in the last three years to be thankful that Christian found you, and again I'm grateful he did. I only hope Christian doesn't take it out on you when he finds that I'm preparing to return home."

Leslie laughed. "Just give him a call at home tonight and explain it to him," she said. "I think he'll understand, especially in regard to Gregory Nordeman. Don't worry about it, and don't feel guilty about going home."

"I'll try not to," Anna-Laura said, rising. "Thank you both for your time. Please excuse me—I'll start preparing for the trip home now." Roarke and Leslie nodded, and she pushed Lisi's stroller ahead of her down the veranda, her head hanging.

Before either Roarke or Leslie could say anything, though, they had another visitor: Jeremy Ichino this time. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, noting their lunch.

"We're used to it," said Leslie with a wry grin. "Can we help you?"

"Well, it won't take long," Jeremy sighed and addressed Roarke. "I've decided I'm gonna resign as a judge, Mr. Roarke. It's the only thing I can do without suffering from a bruised conscience. I hope you don't mind…but, well, I did at least manage to find a replacement, if she's okay by you."

"Who would 'she' be?" Roarke asked.

"My niece, Janine," Jeremy said. "She's sixteen and she's into a lot of today's music. I think she could be a big help."

"Does Janine know you're volunteering her?" Leslie asked humorously.

Jeremy grinned at that. "I ran it by her about an hour ago, and she actually looked enthusiastic about something for once. Andrea says she's been pretty resentful about having to leave Massachusetts and all her friends, and I thought she might enjoy this. Not that I was overly optimistic about her reaction, but she liked the idea better than I thought she would. So she'll be here about two-thirty, Mr. Roarke, so you can brief her on what needs to be done."

"Very well," Roarke agreed. "You're quite sure this is the right thing to do?"

"Positive," Jeremy said. "I mean, I was really looking forward to judging the contest, Mr. Roarke…but I'm more afraid of losing Holly than of missing out. Now I can root for Holly and her band without feeling as if I'm biased."

Roarke smiled. "I wish you and Miss Misuki luck, Jeremy," he said, and Jeremy gave them both a wide grin, thanked Roarke and jogged off the veranda.

"I hope," Leslie said, staring at her plate, "that we might have a chance to finish before the contest starts. By the time I can take a plate to Christian, he probably might as well have come over here and joined us after all." Roarke laughed, and this time they managed to finish their lunch.

Leslie took a plate over to Christian, who lit up at sight of her. "A sight for sore eyes, you are," he said. "I never did get a chance to eat lunch, and I'm incredibly hungry. How are you and those babies doing, my Rose?"

"We're all fine, my love," she said, easing herself into a chair on the other side of the work arm of his desk and watching him take the cover off the plate, then registering exactly how many projects he had waiting to be done. "Holy cow, you really are busy!"

"Frantically so," he said, taking a bite. "It seems more and more of your guests are in the habit of bringing their computers here with them, and they always seem to need fixing. I must admit, I'll be glad when this rush dies down. I just got back a little while ago from the newspaper—Myeko's computer developed another glitch, and I had to bring the whole machine back here with me in order to replace the CD drive." He chuckled. "She wanted me to ask Anna-Laura to mention springing for new computers to Nordeman."

Leslie blinked and bit her lip. "Oh," she said.

Christian paused and queried, "What is it?"

"Well…" Leslie met his gaze a little hesitantly. "I'm not sure that's going to happen, even if you mention it to her." He tilted his head to one side, and she explained what Anna-Laura had said at lunch. Christian stared at her in disbelief.

Finally he shook his head and frowned at the half-empty plate. "I can understand her point of view very well, actually, but I didn't think it would unnerve her enough to make her decide to return home. I'd far rather have had her here helping us than someone we don't really know."

"There's always Anna-Kristina," said Leslie.

"But she has a job," Christian reminded her. "In any case, I heard the other day that the adoption is about to go through, and she and Mateo will be leaving for China sometime next month, I think. They're still arguing over a name for the little girl. At any rate, I doubt she'll have any time for us and the twins." He sighed and shook his head. "I suppose we'll just have to hope for the best."

"Something'll turn up, my love," Leslie assured him. "It's still a little early to be worrying that much about nannies and so on." The bell over the door jangled, and Julianne Ichino came in. "Hi, Julianne."

Julianne grinned. "Hi, Miss Leslie! How're the babies?"

"Fine," Leslie said. "Still in here where they should be." She patted her abdomen, and Julianne laughed.

"Well, that's good," she said. "Say, uh, have you seen Jeremy anywhere? He was supposed to meet me and Jonathan for lunch, and he never showed."

"I don't know where he is now," said Leslie, "but I can tell you where he was about an hour ago. He came to Father and me and let it be known he was resigning as judge of the Battle of the Bands contest. Andrea's daughter Janine agreed to be judge in his place."

Julianne stared at her and exclaimed, "Janine? You must be kidding!"

"Why?" asked Christian, scraping the last bite off his plate.

"Because Janine's been so resentful of the move here," said Julianne. "She didn't want to leave Massachusetts, and she's been sullen and standoffish since she got here. I can't believe he got her to get involved in something. I've got half a mind to ask for the afternoon off just to see her do it with my own two eyes."

Christian and Leslie laughed. "I'm sure it'd make Andrea happy," Leslie said, "but from what I see here, she'll have to go see it instead of you—way too much work sitting here waiting to be done, and I'm sure Christian wouldn't let you worm your way out of doing your share of it."

"Quite true," Christian agreed, and Leslie and Julianne laughed. "All right then, I'm done. Thank you, my darling, and thank Mariki as well. That was very good—hit the spot, as you say. I think I can make it till closing now."


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- February 15, 2004

Meanwhile, Jeremy slipped unobtrusively into the audience waiting to see the Battle of the Bands and settled back in his seat, waiting for Holly's band to go on. They were first on the docket, according to the program, and he was looking forward to hearing them.

But to his disbelief, when they came out, there were only the three young men, one of whom was doing the singing and playing the guitar at the same time. There was no sign at all of Holly Misuki. Jeremy stared for a moment, then twisted in his seat, peering all around him, trying to find her in the crowd. She was nowhere to be seen, and he couldn't figure out what had happened. He decided immediately not to bother with the rest of the contest and got up to leave, heading for the band's bungalow to see if Holly was there. As it happened, she wasn't, leaving Jeremy to wonder if it had been something he himself had said or done.

He waited till the scheduled end of the contest, then headed for the main house to talk to Roarke. The moment he stepped into the study, though, he halted in his tracks, for sitting in one of the chairs in front of Roarke's desk was none other than Holly Misuki. She and Roarke both turned at his entrance. "Hello, Jeremy," Roarke said.

"Hi, Mr. Roarke…Holly, what're you doing here?" Jeremy asked. "And how come you weren't in the contest?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you!" Holly exclaimed. "Why weren't you judging?"

"But you weren't there," Jeremy protested. "How would you know I wasn't judging? And how'd you know I was supposed to be a judge in the first place?"

Roarke chuckled. "Come in and sit down, Jeremy, and calm yourself," he suggested humorously. "If you two will permit me, I'll explain."

Jeremy took a chair, peering cautiously and curiously at Holly, who appeared to be as confused as he felt. "This is probably gonna be good," he said.

"I think so," Roarke said whimsically. "To begin with, Jeremy, Miss Misuki and her bandmates discovered you were to be a judge because, this morning, they received a copy of the contest program—just as did all the other bands and the audience, and even the judges. It was then that Miss Misuki came to my office and explained that she had met you yesterday, and was afraid of tainting your ability to judge the contest if you knew she was in one of the bands. So she informed me, as well as her bandmates, that she was quitting the group she belonged to."

Jeremy stared at Holly, who nodded. "Aw, man," he said softly, "I can't believe you did that. When you told me you were in a band that was in the contest, I decided to resign as a judge so I could come out and root for you to win without rigging the contest. I got my niece to take my place—that's why I wasn't there…how'd you know?"

"The guys told me," said Holly faintly, staring back at him. "I can't believe you'd…"

"But I don't get it," Jeremy protested, stunned. "Why would you quit? It was easier for me to quit as a judge. It's not like I was gonna make a career out of it."

Holly shook her head. "I wasn't aspiring to be a singer, either," she said. "I told you yesterday that I graduate from nursing school this summer. The band was a hobby, really. The guys are more serious than I am, and they were really looking to get someplace in the music world if they could. They can always hire another singer. I quit because I didn't want you thinking I was trying to give our band an edge to win." She turned red and let her head droop, her black hair slipping forward to cover her face. "I didn't want to lose your friendship over something like this…or anything else."

Jeremy reached over and put a hand atop hers. "Holly," he said, "that's the same reason I resigned. I didn't want anything jeopardizing what we've found with each other, and I wanted a clear conscience so I could ask you if I could keep seeing you after this weekend. I'd really like to, you know."

Holly looked up, eyes wide. "I'd love that! I'd been trying to get up the courage to ask if you still wanted to see me…"

Roarke smiled and remarked, "It appears that you've managed to attain a happy ending, despite the predicament you both faced."

Jeremy grinned. "That's for sure, Mr. Roarke," he said. "It was worth it, too. Finding Holly was a lot more important to me than judging a contest, fairly or not."

"And meeting Jeremy meant a lot more to me than winning," Holly agreed, squeezing his hand and beaming. "Thanks, Mr. Roarke. I came here with one fantasy and got an even better one instead."

Roarke said warmly, "You're both very welcome. Incidentally, it may interest you to know that your former bandmates won the contest, Miss Misuki."

"Oh wow," Holly exclaimed, and she and Jeremy both began to laugh. "Seems like we all got our fantasies this weekend!"

‡ ‡ ‡

Slightly self-conscious, Anton and Andrea faced each other over a small corner table at the pond restaurant, candlelight throwing odd flickering shadows on each other's features and reflecting deep red through glasses of French burgundy. They'd sustained a somewhat stilted conversation on their way here, but now that they were seated, they couldn't seem to find anything else to talk about. Andrea wondered why her mind had gone so blank; she had asked him how he liked living on the island, what had propelled him into this particular line of work, and whether he ever got homesick, while he'd asked her how she'd wound up as a journalist and what had brought her to the island. So they knew some vital statistics now, but Andrea wished they had left out some things so they could build another conversation. She was afraid that if neither spoke again, the date would fall apart.

Then, miraculously, a thought crossed her mind and she looked hesitantly up at Anton from behind the oversized, tasseled menu. "How did you find out that Prince Christian was opening a branch office on Fantasy Island? I mean…Germany's around the world from here, and I can't quite believe his appeal was broadcast worldwide."

Anton laughed quietly, to her relief. "It wasn't," he assured her. "I was working in a large factory that manufactures electronic components, and a co-worker of mine had been saving for years to make a trip to Fantasy Island. She was there for three weeks—half her year's vacation time—and when she returned, she had brought back a copy of the island's newspaper as a souvenir. She simply had to show it to everyone, of course. I asked if I could borrow it to read over my lunch, and she graciously agreed. It was there that I took notice of Prince Christian's advertisement. I thought it sounded almost too good to be true. The thing that convinced me it wasn't was the reputation the prince had. Lilla Jordsö is a small country, but most European countries are small and boundaries seem to change at least once each decade. Many of us in Europe have done away with royalty, but the Scandinavians and Dutch, the British and the Arcolosians remain stubborn holdouts." He smiled. "Christian was always quite unusual for royalty. His people took him to heart, perhaps from very early in his childhood—he was known as 'the happy prince' for many years. His insistence on maintaining his own residence, outside the royal castle, created headlines; so did his founding of his own business. He was rarely seen in public with a woman, and whenever he was, that made headlines too. Then his arranged marriage made even more headlines. These things get around, you see. They may not always cross the seas, but Europe is a crowded continent, so all European nations keep track of one another's celebrity set. Naturally, the news of the true provenance of the arranged marriage, and then its ending and his move to Fantasy Island to marry Miss Leslie, reverberated across Europe too. In any case, he opened his branch office about a year before the move. Knowing who he was—and wanting very much to get away from my boring, repetitive job—was enough to drive me to apply. I was quite fortunate that he hired me."

"So you just up and left your home and family, lock, stock and barrel?" Andrea asked in amazement. "That's really astounding. It takes a lot of guts to do that."

Anton smiled dismissively. "I think, if you want something badly enough, courage is not an issue. The wish to attain that goal seems to drive away fear." His smile fell away and he shifted in his chair. "In any case, it was easy enough for me."

"Why?" Andrea asked, then quickly added, "If you don't mind my asking…"

"If we are to develop a friendship," Anton said, "you'll know sooner or later. I have been divorced for more than ten years, and I have two children—a son and a daughter—who remain in Germany with their mother. Christian is very European in his generosity with vacation time, for we receive four weeks a year; and I use my four weeks to return to Germany so that I can see my children. Otherwise I should have no contact with them at all, for their mother refuses to allow them to come and visit me here."

Andrea frowned. "That hardly seems fair. I wonder why?"

"Perhaps she thinks that if they came to visit me here, they would never want to leave," Anton suggested with a touch of humor.

Andrea grinned. "I can understand that. I'm a native, as I mentioned on the way over here, so when my own divorce was going through, the allure of coming home again was just too much to resist. I have two daughters, and they were both born in Massachusetts. My younger one seems to be adjusting well, but my older girl is extremely resentful. I'm just hoping that having most of my family here on the island will help make things a little more attractive for her. Most of my brothers and sisters live here—one brother and one sister are in Hawaii, which isn't all that far away. But she just wants to go back to Massachusetts, and there are days when I'd be happy to send her—if she had somewhere to go back to. Her father doesn't want her to live with him."

"Why not?" Anton asked.

"Because of the way our divorce came about," Andrea said. "I suspected Troy of having an affair for a few months, but it stunned me to realize that it was with a man and not a woman. He came out of the closet to me out of the blue one day, and in the next breath said he wanted a divorce because he was tired of pretending. The irony of his being openly gay was that my older daughter accepted it just fine, while her sister didn't."

Anton nodded slowly. "Perhaps that explains the older girl's resentment of the move. She didn't mind having a gay father and would have preferred to live with him rather than leave the home she knew all her life."

Andrea stared at him for a moment, then breathed, "I never thought of it that way. I must be an idiot! Now that you say that, I can see it perfectly." She shook her head at herself. "I guess place means more to some people than others. I can actually understand the way Janine feels. I had the same attitude about here. Don't get me wrong—I really loved living in Massachusetts. Boston's a lively and amazing city, and I think it has a particular sophistication you'd never find in a lot of other cities, no matter what New Yorkers may claim. It has a certain Old World veneer about it. But see, when it came down to what I was going to do after my divorce, there wasn't any question but that I come back to Fantasy Island. It's where I was born and raised, and when I first set foot here with Janine and Denise, I immediately felt a sense of homecoming. That told me I made the right choice."

"It seems so," Anton agreed and smiled. "My children aren't very happy with me that I made such a move myself. They think I've lost my mind. I tell them they are always free to come and visit me, and see for themselves what I've grown to admire. I think they would like to come, but their mother prevents it, for whatever reasons. Perhaps when they are old enough to choose for themselves, they will defy her and come anyway."

"What are their names?" Andrea asked.

"My son is Fredrich—Fredi for short—and my daughter is Beatrisa, called Trisa. I miss them a great deal, but we do talk to each other through e-mail, so I can stay in touch and know what is happening in their lives. A pity that your former husband doesn't do the same with your daughters."

Andrea shrugged. "I'm sorry about it only for their sake. A father shouldn't divorce his kids when he dumps their mother." She cleared her throat and smiled at him. "Troy should take an example from you. Anyway, maybe we can talk about happier things…like, for one thing, how you've adjusted to living here. Prince Christian had two humongous reasons for doing it—Miss Leslie, of course, and then his business, and I hear he's really happy here. What about you?"

The rest of their date went very well, and they agreed to another before Anton took Andrea home on the motorcycle he used to get around the island. Andrea waved to him as he roared off down the street, then let herself in and yawned contentedly, optimistic that her social life was beginning to look up.

Janine, Denise and Jeremy were sitting at the kitchen table, playing Scrabble and eating popcorn. "Hi, sis, how was the date?" Jeremy asked.

"Great," said Andrea. "I like Anton a lot, and we had a very good time."

Janine stared at her. "You mean you're gonna date this guy now?" she demanded. "So that means we're never going back home?"

Andrea closed her eyes. "I should have known I was going to get a reaction like that from you," she said tiredly. "Thank you, Janine, for deliberately and willfully taking the joy out of the moment. I suppose you've appointed yourself my judge, jury and executioner for destroying your entire life." She was tired and angry at Janine's continued hostility, and she couldn't deal with it anymore. "Sorry, Jeremy…I'm going to bed." She left the room, battling back tears, but determined all the same to have her own life no matter who might protest. Camille had been astonished to learn that she had forged ahead with that same determination after her rape; she intended to do no less now in the wake of her divorce. But it hurt to know that she was taking all the blame for the way Troy had changed their lives.

"Nice going, Janine," Jeremy said dryly, reaching for another handful of popcorn.

"I'm supposed to be glad about all this?" Janine snapped. "I didn't want to come here. I wanted to stay in Brookline and live with Dad, but nobody listened to me."

Denise rolled her eyes. "I keep telling you, Dad wouldn't want you around, any more than he wanted me and Mom around," she said disgustedly. "He's a proud gay man now, and he's decided that an ex-wife and two kids would cramp his style and his new relationship. I think you're totally blind, Janine, and stupid on top of that."

Jeremy peered at her. "You're really embarrassed that Troy came out, aren't you?"

"Every kid in my class in Brookline made fun of me when they heard," Denise said bitterly. "He's a well-known chiropractor, and he never made any secret of being gay once he sprung it on us. He even kept pictures of his lover all over his office. All of a sudden we weren't good enough for him anymore. He was glad to get rid of us." She got up and stalked out of the kitchen.

Jeremy contemplated her diatribe for a moment, then peered at Janine, who was scowling after her sister. "Is she resentful of Troy specifically, or just that he's gay?"

"I don't know," Janine snorted. "It's her problem, not mine. I think she's wrong anyway. Mom wanted total custody, and she didn't give Dad a chance to contest. She could have made it easier on us and stayed in Brookline—like having divorced parents wasn't bad enough, now we have to start our lives all over again in a strange place. I wish I could go back home. I know Dad would take me in—he'd have to. And now that Mom's dating, it's just another damn change in our lives. Haven't we been punished enough?"

"I don't remember getting an invitation to the Pity Janine Polidari Festival," Jeremy said caustically, making her stare at him. "You obviously have the idea that everything that's happened in the last year was calculated deliberately to ruin your entire life. Troy came out of the closet specifically to embarrass you and Denise. He and your mother got a divorce just so they could make your life miserable and turn you, Janine Polidari, into a statistic. Andrea decided to move back to her birthplace for no other reason than to tear you away from all your friends and make you start over in a school where you know nobody. Yeah," Jeremy concluded, his voice dripping sarcasm, "I can see where they all meant to hurt you and got their jollies out of it. Poor, poor, abused Janine." He got up from the table and gave her a sharp glare. "I suppose you expected Andrea to stay in a place where she was sure to be confronted day after day with the fact that her ex is in a new relationship. I guess it was fine with you for someone to be unhappy, just as long as it wasn't you, huh? The world revolves around Janine, apparently. Funny, I thought it revolved around the sun. I better contact the island schoolteachers and correct them."

"You don't have to be sarcastic, Uncle Jeremy," Janine grumbled, red-faced.

"Sure I do," said Jeremy. "You've really been a pain in the butt just about ever since you got here. You're barely civil to most of us, and you treat your mother like a pariah. It's time you grew up, Janine, and time you realized that you're not the only person on this planet who has a right to be happy." He left for his basement room, a heavy silence hanging behind him, while Janine stared at the remains of the popcorn, the half-finished Scrabble game, and her own slowly emerging sense of mingled outrage and guilt.


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- February 18, 2004

"Honestly, if I eat any more, I'm going to look like the operatic fat lady by the time the twins are born," Leslie grumbled, staring in disbelief at what little remained of the lunch she had just shared with Roarke and Christian. "I know Mariki would love it if I weighed two-fifty, but I think Dr. Hannaford would have a problem with it."

The men laughed. "That's simply the way Mariki is, child," Roarke assured her. "You shouldn't worry about it; it's just a manifestation of her ongoing insistence that you eat."

Christian nodded and said, "I think so as well. But I have to admit, my Rose, I've never known you to eat so heartily…or quite so much. You had three helpings of everything!"

"I know," said Leslie plaintively, staring at him. "I'm so hungry all the time, it feels as if some alien must have taken over. I've started to wonder if I'm eating too much even for someone who's expecting twins."

"Then we'll bring it up to Dr. Hannaford next week," said Christian. "Just for now…" He stopped, his gaze training on something beyond the table, and Roarke and Leslie both looked in that direction.

Only Roarke recognized the man approaching them. "Good afternoon, Mr. Nordeman, how can we help you?" he inquired.

Christian and Leslie looked at each other while Gregory Nordeman paused beside the table. "I don't mean to interrupt," he said, "but I have a question. Where's Anna-Laura?"

That got Christian's and Leslie's collective attention, and they both turned to look at him now. "I beg your pardon?" Christian said coolly.

Nordeman took a closer look at him and said, "Ah, just the man I was hoping to run into. Your Highness, I've been trying to contact your sister—Princess Anna-Laura—for the last two days. I can't get through to her."

"She isn't on the island any longer, Mr. Nordeman," said Christian bluntly. "She took Lisi home to Lilla Jordsö two days ago."

Nordeman stared at him. "Why?"

"She has some thinking to do," Christian told him, while Leslie and Roarke looked on, both well aware of the emergence of Christian's accustomed royal persona. His "common-man" veneer was well-developed; but under certain circumstances his true colors showed, and this was one such. "She confided in my wife and me last week, explaining that you had offered to let her and Lisi stay with you until our own home is ready…and also that when she declined, you proposed marriage."

Nordeman looked a little disgruntled, peering at Christian with disapproval. "Oh?"

"She was conflicted," said Christian, relaxing in his chair, still easily meeting Nordeman's gaze with a cool regard of his own. "You were moving too quickly for her, and she needed to have time to think about things and to continue working through her grief over Lisi's parents." He studied the older man assessingly. "It's my understanding, from several sources, that you have…shall I say, a forceful personality. Not everyone responds positively to that, Mr. Nordeman, and I think you may have overwhelmed Anna-Laura a bit."

Nordeman eyed Christian with some annoyance. "Just in case you were wondering, Your Highness, I happen to be in love with her. I proposed to her for that reason and that one only."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Christian said and almost smiled. "I think what you fail to see here is that Anna-Laura may not be ready yet for so great a change in her life."

Nordeman looked a little startled, and Roarke inquired, "Did you consider asking Her Highness about her feelings, Mr. Nordeman? Did you suggest to her that there were other alternatives than merely moving her in with you and marrying her?"

Nordeman floundered, his mouth gaping open, his eyes darting back and forth between Roarke and Christian. Finally he managed, "What're you driving at?"

"You may have to deal with the possibility that Anna-Laura won't want to leave Lilla Jordsö," Christian said.

"Oh, come on," sputtered Nordeman. _"You_ had no problem leaving."

Unexpectedly Christian laughed, though the sound wasn't entirely humorous. "If you know anything at all about the _jordiska_ royal family, Mr. Nordeman, you'll recall that I'm rather the renegade of the lot," he said. "Anna-Laura may be my sister, but that doesn't make her identical to me in temperament or personality. And believe me, she wouldn't appreciate being compared to me in that manner. Anna-Laura, like anyone else, is entirely her own person, and I daresay you need to learn to treat her accordingly." He took in the man's poleaxed look. "It appears to me that this never crossed your mind. And before you begin to bluster at me, you'd better be aware that I don't intimidate easily."

Leslie fought to squelch a grin at Nordeman's discomfiture; Roarke injected sympathy into his smile. "I think it best if you give the princess some time, Mr. Nordeman," he advised gently. "When one falls in love as deeply as you have, it's sometimes difficult to practice restraint. But from all I have heard, you and Princess Anna-Laura have progressed at entirely different rates, emotionally. As Christian said, she is quite likely feeling overwhelmed, what with the loss of her daughter and son-in-law and the speed with which you've attempted to establish a relationship with her. The best thing you can do for her is to give her time."

Nordeman heaved an enormous sigh and finally nodded with obvious reluctance. "All right, then, I'll give her some space." He peered at Christian. "Do you think she'd be willing to stay in touch with me, over e-mail?"

"I don't see any reason she would refuse," Christian said with a half-shrug.

Nordeman nodded, studying the former prince, as if taking his measure; Christian continued to return his scrutiny with cool, quiet self-confidence. Suddenly the older man let out a laugh. "Must be something about this island," he said. "I couldn't intimidate Roarke when I got here. Now I can't intimidate you."

"He still has the soul of a prince," Leslie said with a fond smile at her husband, "and he puts it to good use when he needs to. Nobody steamrollers over Christian."

"Nobody steamrollers over royalty in general," Nordeman agreed, chuckling. "You must be Roarke's daughter, Leslie. It's good to finally meet you. Congratulations on the twins, by the way. Anna-Laura had been looking forward to helping care for them."

Christian raised an eyebrow. "Yes, she was," he agreed.

Nordeman grinned. "Well, if I handle her delicately, maybe she'll come back," he said. "Anyway, I get the message. Not that it changes my ultimate goal, mind you, but I get the message."

"Good," Christian said and shifted a bit in his chair, his expression becoming stern, but belied by a twinkle in his eye. "While you're here, I might suggest that you handle a rather major problem at the newspaper. At least once a month I'm called in to fix their aging computers. I doubt highly that any of those machines is less than eight years old, and some are clearly far older than that—probably twelve or fifteen years, so that they don't even have floppy-disk drives or multi-color monitors. Just the other day I had to go in and make yet another repair. Perhaps you'd do a favor for both the newspaper's employees and me, and make room in the budget for new computers across the board."

Leslie's mouth dropped open and she clapped her hand over it, hoping to stave off a burst of laughter. Roarke smiled very broadly, his own dark eyes sparkling with amusement, while Christian regarded the astonished newspaper owner in silence.

Finally Nordeman began to grin. "You're about the only person I've ever met who'd have the audacity to say that to me," he said. "Tell you what, next time I'm over there, I'll look into it. I'll check out some of these Dark-Age dinosaurs you claim some of my people are using, and I'll give Accounting a working-over till they find the money."

Christian grinned back and offered, "If you need help choosing new models, just give me a call, and I'll be glad to help out."

"You've got a deal, Your Highness," Nordeman said, and he and Christian shook hands across the table amid the laughter.

§ § § -- February 25, 2004

Christian and Leslie sat together in the hospital waiting room for Dr. Hannaford to send word that she was ready to see Leslie; they were each reading a magazine. Leslie let out a soft gasp that made Christian turn to her. "What's wrong, my darling?"

"Nothing at all, my love," Leslie said. "It says here that this summer, 'King's Castle' is finally coming out on DVD. That's so terrific…I've been waiting for that to happen. I grew up on that show, and it's my all-time favorite."

"Ah, I see," said Christian, grinning. "You might keep in mind that by the time that DVD is released, the babies will be here, and they'll give you no time to watch it!" Playfully Leslie stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed.

"Mr. and Mrs. Enstad? Dr. Hannaford is ready for you," a nurse called to them.

"Thank you," Leslie said, rising alongside Christian. Together they went back to the suite of rooms that Dr. Hannaford used, greeting her with smiles and following her to her examining room. Leslie had grown accustomed to undergoing an ultrasound each month; the previous month, she'd also had an amniocentesis done, something that had made Christian as nervous as it had Leslie. Fortunately everything had proven to be normal.

"So how're things coming along? Anything strange to report?" Dr. Hannaford inquired, performing the usual tests.

"I'm eating like a hippo," Leslie said, noting Christian's grin. "I mean, I know I have to make considerations for the fact that I'm carrying twins, but I eat so much that I'm getting suspicious. And Mariki's constant gloating that I'm finally gobbling down everything in sight, the way she's always wanted me to do, doesn't help at all."

Dr. Hannaford, who'd been apprised early on of Mariki's habit of urging Leslie to eat, laughed. "I'm sure it doesn't. But do you really think it's a problem?"

"She goes back for third helpings at most meals," Christian explained, "and for all the years I've known Leslie, she's never done that. Normally even second helpings are extremely rare for her, and for her to overload like this at nearly every meal seems like an oddity."

"Uh-huh," Dr. Hannaford mumbled thoughtfully. "Hmm. Increased appetite isn't unusual in pregnancy, but you do need to be careful about not gaining too much weight too fast. Sounds to me like you're looking for another explanation."

Leslie and Christian shrugged at each other, and Leslie said, "Well, it just seems really weird to me, that's all. To tell you the truth, even Mariki looked at me funny at lunch on Sunday, and said something smart-alecky about not being able to afford to feed me."

Dr. Hannaford straightened up and peered at her, then at Christian, and raised her eyebrows, intrigued. "Very interesting. When Mariki complains, there must be something to it." The Enstads both laughed. "Well, let's get the ultrasound done here, and then we'll see if we can track down the culprit."

Leslie raised her maternity top and Dr. Hannaford measured the top of the bulge to see how far her uterus had expanded; she "hmm"-ed again, evoking another shared glance between Christian and Leslie. "Be right back." She left, and Leslie squinted down at her expanding midsection.

Christian laid a hand over her now-distended navel. "It looks bigger," he commented.

"I thought so too," Leslie said a little uneasily, and they looked at each other again.

Dr. Hannaford came back at that moment and Leslie lay back on the examining table, taking Christian's hand while the doctor slathered conductive gel on Leslie's abdomen. In a few minutes they were all eyeing the monitor where the ultrasound image flickered, the expectant parents trying as usual to make sense of the pictures. Slowly Dr. Hannaford moved the transducer over Leslie's skin, making several passes and carefully examining the results before releasing a low whistle. "I'll be damned," she mumbled, making the Enstads stare at her with huge eyes. "I'll be absolutely damned. How'd that one get by us?"

"What's the matter?" Christian demanded.

Dr. Hannaford heard the royal command under his urgency and gave him a rueful smile. "You two'll really have to stock up now. You're expecting triplets."

"No!" Leslie and Christian both exclaimed at once. Leslie added incredulously, "How is that possible? I mean, I'm five months pregnant, and you've found it only just now?"

"It happens at times, and more frequently than you'd think," the doctor said. "It's pretty crowded in there, Mrs. Enstad, and there's no way three babies can occupy that space in a line straight across. You have two up front, where they're fairly easy to see, and then there's the shy bird, hiding behind the others. Number three has been camouflaging him- or herself this entire time. The only reason I saw it here is because the little devil's head was situated right in between the other two babies. Now Mrs. Enstad," she said, taking Leslie's free hand, "hold this right here and I'll try to pick out each baby for you." She wrapped Leslie's hand around the transducer, then went to the monitor and traced the outline of each fetus. "Number one is already head-down," she noted, "so I expect that one will be born first when labor starts. Here's number two, facing number one." She traced that outline; the second baby was still heads-up. "Now, here's the third one—see the head, right here, like a bulge sticking out of number two's shoulder? Watch." She backed up long enough to move the transducer again; the image shifted a bit so that the "bulge" in question was at the center of the screen. As if in response, Christian and Leslie saw the first baby's feet begin to kick, and Leslie let out a soft sound of surprise, feeling the movement at the same time. While the first baby was kicking, the third baby's head moved abruptly, so that it registered clearly on the ultrasound monitor.

"Oh, my God," Leslie breathed. "I don't know what to say."

"We're going to have an instant family," said Christian, shocked. He turned to Dr. Hannaford and added, only half jokingly, "If you tell us next month that you can see a fourth baby in there, we're going to get a second opinion."

Dr. Hannaford laughed; Leslie joined in, with somewhat less enthusiasm. She and Christian stared at the frozen monitor image throughout the rest of the examination, while Dr. Hannaford confirmed hearing three distinct heartbeats now that the first baby had changed position and allowed the third one's presence to be revealed. When the Enstads were finally released, neither of them spoke for a long time.

At their own home, they stared at each other in the living room, eyes still wide. At last Christian mumbled, "I suppose I need to update the website again."

"Have there ever been royal triplets before?" Leslie asked, feeling dazed.

"I don't know, and I'm not sure even Anna-Laura knows. To be honest, my Rose, I don't know whether having precedent would be a comfort or not. We could be the first in the entire family history to produce triplets." Christian shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels and toes for a moment, considering it, while Leslie slowly flattened both hands over her distended middle and tried to picture three small human beings inside.

"Our lives are going to be totally different from the moment the twins…I mean, the triplets are born," she said softly. "We'll never have the same easy schedule again, my love. And we're going to need live-in help more than ever, now that we're having three."

Christian looked up and took in her expression, then smiled and gathered her in against him. She was big enough now that to hold her close, he had to put his arms around her from one side. "You know, I think when word gets out, and all the family members have been told, we may very well have volunteers. Even if Anna-Laura doesn't come back, we may find that others will quickly and gladly take her place." He grinned. "We'll be just fine, my darling Leslie. I've been thinking of hiring another specialist anyway, since business has been booming the last few weeks; there's no reason not to proceed with that now, so that I can take time away from work without worrying about leaving the staff shorthanded. And when our friends hear about it…_herregud_, imagine the size and scope of the baby shower the women are probably going to hold for you." They both laughed. "We'll manage, my Rose, I promise," Christian murmured, and they hugged each other.

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_Thanks to PDXWiz for help in coming up with a name for Brian and Lauren's newborn son!_

Next up: Leslie gets to meet an actress from her all-time favorite TV series—but it might put both of them in danger of their lives…


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